


A Soulmate For Christmas 2015

by ozhawk



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Drabbles, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Soulmates, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, christmas 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 68
Words: 24,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5424140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozhawk/pseuds/ozhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A selection of short fics from prompts received on Tumblr. My original post said:</p><p>Send a number and a ship for holiday fluff!!</p><p>1) Falling snow<br/>2) Mistletoe<br/>3) Snowballs<br/>4) Snowed in<br/>5) Fireplace<br/>6) Gifts<br/>7) Shopping<br/>8) Decorating<br/>9) Holiday tree<br/>10) Cookies<br/>11) Candy cane<br/>12) Santa Claus<br/>13) Snowman<br/>14) Ice skating<br/>15) Frost<br/>16) Hot chocolate<br/>17) Sledding<br/>18) Holiday get togethers<br/>19) Icicles<br/>20) Secret Santa</p><p>Most of these can be considered to be set in the same AU as the original <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/5941115">Short</a> I wrote for the pairing. If otherwise, it's stated in the chapter start notes.</p><p>
  <strong>NO LONGER ACCEPTING PROMPTS. PLEASE DO NOT SEND ME ANY</strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ScarletHawk, 4, requested by lark-cale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Snowed in_ **
> 
> _Barton’s Farm exists, but there’s no Laura and kids. After the events in Sokovia, Clint takes Wanda back to the farm to rest for a while and grieve. He falls slowly in love with her, but being Clint and an idiot, convinces himself not to do anything about it._

“Damn, I hate it when the snow gets like this,” Clint grumped, glaring out of the window.

Wanda laughed quietly from her position curled up on the couch before the fire. “This, this is nothing. In Sokovia we had much worse snow than this, many times.”

“Yeah, but once it passes a certain level, it doesn’t matter how many feet there are. You’re snowed in. _We’re_ snowed in.” Restless, he didn’t turn to look at her. He needed to go out, move around, breathe some air that wasn’t filled with the intoxicating scent of her. His fingers tightened on the windowsill.

He didn’t hear her move. Not until her soft touch on his arm made him jump and spin around, instinctively dropping into a defensive crouch. She arched a dark eyebrow and laughed quietly.

“Ever the warrior.”

“Can’t help it.” Now that he was looking at her, as always he lost himself in the study of her expressive face, her pointed little chin, her huge green eyes.

“When will you learn, Clint, that you have no need for these walls with me?” A tiny hand cupped his cheek, her smile turned soft and inviting. “There are many ways to pass the time when the snow traps us inside.” Leaning close, she whispered in his ear. “Come and keep me warm.”

He swallowed jerkily, unable to speak. Barely able to breathe. Wanda slipped a hand under his sweater, traced her fingertips lightly over his abs.

“I know what you want,” she breathed against his jaw, feathering light kisses over his chin.

“I’m sorry,” Clint gasped out, fighting the urge to drag her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He must _not_ give in to this. He _must_ not.

“Then must I apologise to you, too, for lusting over you?”

“Wh-what?” Startled, he looked down at her, at those knowing green eyes.

“Take what you desire, and give me what I want, Clint,” sinuously she twined herself around him, arms wrapping around his neck to pull his face down to hers. “Let’s _enjoy_ being snowed in. Together.”


	2. Bucky/Bobbi, 2, 4, 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Winterbird, 2, requested by anonymous**
> 
> **Bucky/Bobbi, 4, requested by anonymous**
> 
> **Bucky/Bobbi, 18, requested by anonymous**
> 
> **_Mistletoe_ **
> 
> **_Snowed in_ **
> 
> **_Holiday get togethers_ **
> 
> _Got THREE different prompts for this ship, so I’m gonna combine them…_

“The Winter Soldier hates snow,” Bobbi chuckled quietly as Bucky slammed the door and shook snow from the shoulders of his coat, scowling heavily.

“I don’t mind it, but we’re trapped here!”

She hesitated. “Is that the end of the world? I could call May, ask her to fly in to pick us up…”

Tense, Bucky considered it for a moment before shaking his head. “No. No, Bob, it’s okay, I just… I’m not used to so many people…”

“I don’t see my family often,” she excused herself, “but when I called to tell them I’d got engaged, and Mom insists I bring my fiancé for Christmas, it was kind of hard to say no…”

Bucky’s face softened, and he moved towards her, pulling her into his arms. “For you, angel,” he said quietly, “I’ll tolerate a lot more than a meddling mother and a hard-drinking grandma who keeps trying to corner me under the mistletoe.”

Bobbi burst out laughing. “She didn’t!”

“Oh, yes, she did.” Bucky grinned at the memory. “It’s just a good thing she’s not as tall as you are or I’d have had more than my chin slobbered on.”

He had to hold her up, she was laughing so hard. Later on, though, she was the one who cornered him under the mistletoe, in front of every single member of her boisterous family, and kissed him breathless, smiling triumphantly at her grandmother afterwards.

“Atta girl,” Granny Morse said with a cackle and a wink.


	3. Darcy/Remy, 19, requested by general zargon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Icicles_ **

 

“Tell me again why you wouldn’t come with me to New Orleans for Christmas, _ma belle_?” Remy said disconsolately.

Darcy laughed at him entirely heartlessly. “Because all our friends are here in New York?”

“But it’s _cold_!”

“You don’t even feel the cold,” she pointed out. Snuggling deeper into his leather coat, which she’d swiped as an additional layer atop her own.

Remy actually pouted, his full lips forming a moue that Darcy would definitely have kissed if she hadn’t got her whole face bundled up in a thick woollen scarf so that only her eyes could be seen.

“That is not the point, _chère_! I do not like cold weather. There are _icicles_ hanging from the mirrors on my car!” He looked dismayed as they reached the Lamborghini.

“Aw, diddums, your poor car,” Darcy teased, giggling not at all under her breath. “I know a really good use for icicles.”

“You do?” He helped her into the car gallantly, which she needed, bundled up as she was.

“Indeed.” She tugged the scarf over her face down and grinned wickedly up at him. “And when we get back to the _nice warm_ Tower, I’ll show you.”


	4. Jemma/Clint, 4 requested by astarinsomebodyelsessky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Snowed in_ **

 

“Well, it’s not quite how I hoped to spend Christmas Eve, but it’ll do,” Clint said diplomatically.

Jemma stared, distressed, around the tiny, generic hotel room. It was clean; that was about the best that could be said for it. “I don’t understand, it never snows like this in England!” she looked unhappily out of the window, the midday sky outside turned dark with thickly swirling flakes. “It’s not even seventy miles from here to Sheffield…”

“And in a hire car without even snow chains, we wouldn’t make it seven,” Clint told her firmly, putting his arms around her, making her look up at him. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I won’t risk you like that. We’ll make it tomorrow, you’ll still have Christmas dinner with your folks.”

Jemma melted against him, putting her hand up to touch his cheek. “I wanted to give _you_ that perfect family Christmas, like in the movies,” she said softly. “One like you never had, growing up.”

“Angel, the very fact that you _want_ to take me home to meet your parents makes this the most miraculous Christmas I could ever have imagined.” He kissed her, long, slow and deep. “It’s already my best Christmas ever,” Clint whispered against her mouth, drawing her over to the bed. “Utterly perfect.”


	5. Jemma/Natasha, 7, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Shopping_ **

“I don’t need anything new, I have perfectly suitable clothes…”

“For lurking around in a lab,” Natasha said, not slowing her steady stride along Fifth Avenue. “Not for one of Stark’s fancy parties.”

Jemma sputtered for a moment. “I – I have better fashion sense than anyone else at SHIELD!”

“I won’t deny that, because it’s blatantly true. Here we are,” Natasha stepped up to the door of an exclusive boutique, promptly opened by an obsequious doorman.

“And I don’t think I can afford anything in here!” Jemma hissed in her ear, looking around with barely concealed panic. She froze as Natasha grabbed both her hands, pulling her around to face her.

“I can. I could even if Stark didn’t pay me a completely obnoxious salary. So shh, and let me spoil my gorgeous girlfriend with something that will make everyone’s eyes fall out and me feel unbearably smug.”

“That’s how I always feel around _you_ ,” Jemma couldn’t help but laugh.

“Then it’s my turn.” Natasha pointed at a stunning black dress on a hanger. “Let’s see how that one looks on you, beloved.”


	6. Jemma/Clint/Natasha, 18, requested by loopereer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Holiday get-togethers_ **

The only thing that was keeping Clint from running for the hills was the fact that Natasha looked even more spooked then he felt, which was really saying something. She’d tensed up the moment Jemma’s little cousin Julie, all of seven and cute as a button, came bouncing up wearing a miniature Black Widow outfit and begged Natasha to teach her how to throw the little plastic knives that came with the set.

“Not just now, Julie, let Clint and Natasha meet everyone first,” Jemma herded the small girl away, smiling apologies over her shoulder.

There were half a dozen kids at the Simmons family gathering, ranging in age from a babe of only a few months, sleeping in the arms of Jemma’s older sister, to a self-possessed thirteen-year-old with watchful eyes and suspicious calluses on her fingertips, Clint detected on shaking hands.

“This is my cousin Katie,” Jemma introduced.

“Just Kate,” the girl corrected, sweeping a wing of dark hair out of her eyes. “Call me Kate.”


	7. The Gambler ‘verse, 20, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Secret Santa_ **
> 
> _For anyone who might not have read The Gambler, it featured the following pairings: Jemma/Gambit, Skye/Deadpool, Fitz/Rogue, Coulson/Audrey Nathan, May/Angel, Bobbi/Hunter and Mack/Mike Peterson._

“Oh God, no,” Wade whined as he unfolded the scrap of paper. “I got Warren!”

“What’s the problem with that?” Skye glanced up from her own paper.

“He’s a _billionaire_ , Skye, what the hell do you buy a billionaire? If Warren wants something he just buys it for himself!” He leaned over and grabbed at her paper. “Who did you get? Let’s swap!”

“No chance!” she wriggled away from his reaching fingers, squeaked as he rolled her to her back, and in the end stuffed the piece of paper in her mouth and ate it, giggling at the expression on Wade’s face.

“Hateful wench!” Wade pouted.

“I’m not telling, and I’m not swapping.” _I know exactly what to get for Rogue. Something that’ll make Fitz_ very _happy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Probably some lingerie that would make Fitz's eyes fall out of his head and Rogue blush scarlet, if you were wondering! ___


	8. Bucky/Jane, 2,  requested by iamartemisday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Mistletoe_ **
> 
> _This isn’t part of the Bucky/Jane Soulmates ‘verse. Something else came to me. Thor and Jane aren’t romantically involved in this ‘verse either._

He’d been watching her for a while, the tiny, beautiful scientist whose genius even Stark and Banner spoke of with deep respect, but he’d never seen her look like this. Her normal attire of jeans and checked shirt was nowhere to be seen, replaced with a stunning, figure-hugging dress in a deep bronze shade that picked up the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes.

Stark’s shindigs were somethin’ to see, Steve had warned him, but Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from the slender brunette standing by the glass windows, looking out and up at the night sky. Draining his glass, he plucked up his courage and made his way over to her.

“Don’t think you’ll see any stars here, Doctor Foster,” he said.

Jane turned to smile. “No, but I can never resist looking anyway – oh,” she’d thought it was Steve speaking, from the faint Brooklyn accent. “Hello. It’s Bucky, isn’t it? Please call me Jane.” She’d seen him watching her, seen those startlingly blue eyes following her about the Tower for the last few weeks, though he probably thought she hadn’t. Jane was very observant when she wanted to be.

“Oh. Um.” He actually coloured up slightly over those ridiculously chiselled cheekbones. “Jane. You look – I hardly recognised you.” He waved a hand vaguely towards her dress.

“Natasha turned up at the lab and practically forced me into it,” Jane confessed, “or I’d probably be here in my jeans.”

Bucky’s lips curled up in a natural, carefree grin. “Yes, she bullied me into this suit, as well.”

“Well done Natasha,” Jane said with unfettered admiration, and this time Bucky definitely did blush.

“I hear my name being taken in vain,” they both looked around to see Natasha, smirking at them. “And just look at where you two are standing!”

They both looked down at their feet, and then back at her, puzzled. She flicked her eyes upwards.

“O,” Jane’s mouth opened as she saw the mistletoe she was standing right under. “Oh, I didn’t mean to stand here, I wasn’t um, looking for a kiss or anything…” She made to take a step back, but Natasha put a firm, unobtrusive hand in the small of her back.

“Don’t you dare. It’s bad luck. Go on, Barnes.”

He hesitated, looking for any real resistance on Jane’s face, but she only peeked up at him through her lashes and smiled shyly. “I don’t think we need witnesses,” he said dryly to Natasha in Russian, and she smirked and melted away.

“What did you say to her?” Jane asked as Bucky took a step closer to her.

“I told her I’d kiss you as long as she wasn’t watchin’,” Bucky paraphrased.

“Well,” Jane glanced around, took a small step closer herself. “Since she’s no longer watching…”


	9. Melinda May/Tony Stark, 7, 8, or 18, requested by fernbiscuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_I picked 8, Decorating, since I haven’t written that one yet…_ **

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Melinda!” Tony twisted at the waist, smiled at her.

“Are you seriously using the Iron Man boots to put the star on top of the tree?”

He looked at the star clutched in his hand, then back at her. “Yes?”

“What’s wrong with a stepladder like everybody else?” She placed her hands on her hips, stared at him.

“Key words, my dearest, _everybody else_. I am Tony Stark. Not _everybody else_.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, as he set the star atop the tree and lowered to the ground, the boots clunking down. Grinning boyishly, he stepped out of them and took her hands.

“Come on, Melinda. Help me decorate the tree.”

Aggravating though he could be, she could never say no to that smile. The corners of her mouth quirked up. “I’m pretty good with tinsel.”


	10. Rumlow/Beth, 15, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Frost_ **

She was drowsing, in that twilight world between sleeping and waking, when a crunching sound brought her to sudden awareness. Lying blinking in the dim, early morning light, she frowned, trying to figure out what the sound was. It was getting closer.

A tap on the window behind her head made her bolt upright with a shriek, and she spun around, clutching the blanket to her chest, to see Brock grinning at her through the frost-traced glass.

“Brock!” she scolded. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Aw, come on, I even walked deliberately on the frosty grass so you’d hear me coming this time.”

Beth laughed at him, shaking her head. “I was asleep. Couldn’t figure out what the noise was.”

“It was your lover sneaking up to join you in your warm bed.”

“Mm, sounds good to me.” At last, she reached out to unlatch the window, watching as he climbed easily through the gap.


	11. Skye/Loki, 9, requested by vulpeculanight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Holiday Tree_ **

“So what do you think?”

Loki walked slowly over to the six-foot-tall plastic Christmas tree set up in a corner of the rec room. Examined the tinsel and shiny baubles dangling from the branches. The fake snow Hunter and Fitz had sprayed all over it, he touched carefully, sniffed his finger and wrinkled his nose.

“This – is how you decorate your tree for the Midwinter Feast?”

“We call it Christmas, but yes.”

Loki peered at the star on the top, just about level with his eyes. It was very slightly crooked. “I see.”

“You don’t like it,” Skye drooped, a little sadly. “I thought it was rather nice… I’ve hardly ever got to celebrate a proper Christmas with anyone…”

Turning back to her, Loki cocked his head, smiled slightly. “I was only thinking that it seems like a slightly meagre symbol for such a significant celebration as our first – Christmas – together. May I add a few touches?”

“Something Asgardian?” Skye brightened again. “Sure!”

One look at her happy smile and Loki nodded, turning back to the tree and lifting his hands. A green shimmer spread out from them and Skye inhaled, surprised, smelling fresh pine.

“What did you do?” she whispered, awed, staring. The cheap, skinny tree was at least a foot taller, the branches thicker and healthier. The frost tipping the branches was real, and glorious snowflake ice sculptures, every one different, hung amongst the other decorations. The star on the top glowed with a soft white light, and as Skye looked around, she realised the ceiling had been transformed into an illusion of the night sky, snowflakes falling from it but disappearing before they could be touched.

Putting her hands on her hips, she stared up at the smugly grinning demi-god. “Okay. Who let you watch _Harry Potter_?”


	12. Jemma/Jack, 20, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Secret Santa_ **
> 
> _Not part of the Soulmates AU. Jack Rollins has been recruited back to SHIELD and has a MAJOR crush on Jemma, but is convinced he’s too much of a dumb muscle-bound brute to appeal to her._

“It’s time for Secret Santa!” Daisy was obviously pumped for Christmas, having herded all the agents remaining on base for Christmas into the rec room. _Read; all the sad sacks with no family and no other place to go_ , Jack thought sardonically, taking a swig of his beer. The Secret Santa exchange wasn’t a terrible idea, though. At least it meant _really_ sad folks like him without close friends got at least _one_ gift.

Jack had drawn the Director himself, which was a surprisingly easy gift to buy. The guy was tense as hell. Jack bought him a voucher for a local massage place he knew from personal experience were amazing at loosening stubbornly tight muscles. Coulson smiled when he opened it; said “Thank you,” to the room at large.

“Jack Rollins,” Daisy read from the tag on a parcel. “That’s you, isn’t it, big guy?”

He gave her a slightly sheepish smile, ducking his head. He’d only transferred in from the _Iliad_ recently, hadn’t worked closely with her yet. “Yeah, that’s me. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, thank your secret Santa!” Daisy chuckled, already picking up another parcel.

Jack retreated to his seat in the corner – chosen so he could keep a strategic eye on Jemma Simmons. He’d been utterly enchanted by the tiny British scientist the first moment he saw her, not that she’d ever look at a guy like him. She was smiling at something her buddy Fitz was saying now; holding her own gift in her hands. A bottle of perfume, the one she always wore from what she’d said when she opened it. He didn’t know the name, but he could have picked out the scent blindfold. Soft and summery, it assailed his senses whenever he got within a few feet of her. He could swear there were the faintest traces of it on the parcel in his hands, actually.

The package was rectangular; about the size of a DVD but thicker, he thought. _Someone probably bought me a box set._ Carefully, he tore the metallic gold paper. Found a flat box inside… _huh, not DVD’s, then_. Lifting the lid, his eyes widened at what he saw inside.

Jemma caught up with the big agent in the corridor outside, after the meal was over. He was trying on his gift.

“Do they fit all right?” she asked hesitantly. “I noticed the regulation ones are too small for you, you never wear them. But you’ll need something to protect your hands…”

Jack stared down at Jemma in shock. “ _You_ made them for me?” The tactical gloves were thin, supple leather and Kevlar, lined with what felt like lambswool – and they were the perfect fit for his massive hands.

“Yes, your biometrics are in the system with your palmprint scan. I’d noticed how big your hands were.” Jemma blushed as the huge agent stared down at her incredulously _. Stop talking, Jemma, any minute now you’re going to confess how you have nightly fantasies about those huge hands and his equally magnificent body_ … Trying to cover her embarrassment, she grabbed one of his hands in hers, pressed her fingers over the glove, testing the fit. “They feel pretty good.”

“They feel wonderful,” Jack said huskily. The gloves covered his fingers to the second knuckle, leaving just the fingertips exposed for sensitivity, and Jemma’s light touch brushing over his fingers made him dizzy with wanting her.

It _was_ her scent on the parcel, he realised suddenly. She’d made the gloves and wrapped the package herself. Instinctively, he shifted his hand, wrapping his long fingers around her small ones.

“Thank you very much, Dr Simmons. This means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome, but please call me Jemma,” she smiled shyly at him.

“I’m Jack. And – I’m in your debt.” Encouraged by her smile, and the fact that she’d put in the effort to make the gloves, had even noticed that he couldn’t use the regulation ones, he plucked up his courage. “Please, let me take you to dinner to say thank you.”

“Oh!” Jemma’s eyes flew wide before she dropped them. Peeping up at him shyly through her lashes, she admitted almost inaudibly, “I’d like that – Jack.”


	13. Skye/Rumlow [please do whichever number you think would emphasize their fluffiness best;)] , requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Free rein, what FUN! I pick… 3**
> 
> **_Snowballs_ **

_This scene takes place after the final chapter of For Want Of A Nail, but before the Epilogue._

Brock hadn’t really anticipated quite how severe the weather would turn out to get at Lai Shi in the winter. Daisy had, though, having been warned by both Lincoln and Alisha, and had prepared accordingly.

Except for the small issue of having put the woodpile just a little too far from the house.

“It’s a good thing you have a supersoldier on hand,” Brock sighed, grabbing the shovel.

“I could quake it out of the way,” she suggested.

“Don’t you dare; you’ll probably set off an avalanche on the mountain!”

“True.” She watched as he set to with the shovel, powerful muscles untiring as he dug a path through the thick snow. After a few minutes, though, he paused, stripped off his coat and came back to the porch.

“Here. If you’re going to stand outside and watch, at least stay warm.” He put the coat around her shoulders, paused to give her a kiss.

Smiling and hugging the coat to her, Daisy grinned at him. “You know I can’t resist watching when you’re doing physical work.”

“I know, you just want me for my body.” He raised a black eyebrow at her, laughed, and went back to work.

“Not _just_ for your body,” she murmured, watching as he hefted the shovel and returned to work. “Though hot _damn_ ,” as he bent to tamp the snow down, his pants drawing tight over his ass. He glanced over his shoulder at her and winked.

“Asshole,” Daisy muttered under her breath, whacking her hands down lightly on the porch railing. Snow crumbled away from her gloved fists, and she cocked her head slightly before starting to smile.

The first snowball hit Brock perfectly dead centre on his ass.


	14. Skye/Steve, 4, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Snowed in_ **

“We’re snowed in.” There was a distinct note of satisfaction in Skye’s voice as she turned away from the window, came back to where Steve was sitting on the floor in front of the fire, toasting marshmallows for s’mores on a long fork.

“You know we’re not really snowed in, don’t you?” Steve said with amusement as she picked up a graham cracker and held it out for him to smoosh the marshmallow onto. “I could dig us out pretty easily, or we could call someone to come pick us up in a quinjet.”

Skye said nothing for a long moment, concentrating on placing her piece of chocolate and the second cracker on her s’more. She held it for a moment, waiting for the chocolate to melt, before looking up at Steve, her heart in her eyes.

“Let me have the fantasy for just a little while, beloved. That’s it’s just the two of us and the world can do without us for a while.”

His eyes softened and darkened, his hand came up to touch her cheek. “As long as I can, my love. As long as I can.”


	15. Skye/Johnny Storm, 5, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Fireplace_ **

“I _know_ it’s a fireplace. And no, you may _not_ light a fire in it.”

“But,” Johnny spluttered. “But… but…”

“You were the one who wanted to spend our well-earned Christmas break soaking up the sunshine and surfing in Australia.” Skye put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “It’s over ninety outside. _Yes_ , the air-conditioning is working perfectly inside. No, you may _not_ turn it down further just so you can light a fire in the damn fireplace!”

“But it’s Christmas, there should be roaring log fires…”

“And snow outside,” Skye threw a pointed look at the window. “Not blazing sunshine. No, Johnny.”

He pouted like a child denied a treat, and she grinned and went over, reaching up to frame his face in her hands and kiss him.

“Never mind, darling. Come on,” she took his hand in hers and tugged gently. “Let’s head back to bed and scorch the sheets up instead!”


	16. Clint/Skye, 5, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Fireplace_ **

“You’re such a boy scout,” Skye teased as she watched Clint deftly lay a fire in the empty fireplace, breaking up the old pieces of rotten furniture in the small hut they’d found. They wouldn’t be here long, just until May could fly in and pick them up, but they’d need to keep warm. “Got any matches?”

He snorted without looking around. “Don’t need matches, darlin’. And I’m no boy scout, either.”

“Heh.” She watched as he pulled an arrow from his quiver. “Are you gonna do that clever Bear Grylls thing with the firebow and making fire through friction?”

Clint looked over his shoulder at her, laughing slightly. “Are you kidding? Hell no. I’m gonna cheat.” He pulled off the arrowhead to reveal a pair of wires trailing down into the shaft. Tugged on them until they came free, and then carefully touched the ends together. A bright blue spark crackled into the dry wood and a small flame flared up at once.

“See?” he grinned up at her, feeding small chips of wood to the flames. “Bear ain’t got nuthin’ on me.”

“As long as you don’t make me eat bugs, I think you’re right,” Skye giggled, settling down on the floor beside him and snuggling against his shoulder.


	17. Bucky/Beth, 16, requested by marvelfanuniverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Hot chocolate_ **

“No, thank you.” Bucky failed to suppress a shudder as Beth put a mug down in front of him. “I hate that stuff.”

Beth blinked, looked down into the mug. “Hot chocolate? Really?”

“Hot…?” he blinked too, cautiously put his flesh hand against the side of the mug. “No. I can’t imagine it would taste much better hot.”

Beth sank slowly into her own seat, reached out to touch his wrist gently. “Bucky, what did you think it was?”

He got that shuttered look on his face again, the one he always got when thinking about his time as the Asset. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Bucky. Please tell me. Don’t shut me out.”

He looked up, looked at her, everything that was bright and good in his world, her golden hair tumbling around her face, blue eyes soft and loving. “They didn’t feed me solid foods,” he said at last. “Not proper meals, like we eat here. Mostly protein powders, ration bars, Army MREs. Always cold. I hadn’t tasted hot food in far too many years before I got away from them. That,” he nodded at the mug, “looks like the protein shake they gave me most of the time. Gritty and grainy, thick… I always struggled to get it down without gagging.”

“Oh, Bucky,” Beth whispered, as always fighting to tamp down the fury that came over her when she learned some other little detail of the ghastly things Hydra had done to him. “No. It’s hot chocolate. Made with melted chocolate and milk, I don’t like the powdery stuff… here.” She took a sip of her own, leaned in to kiss Bucky with the warm liquid still in her mouth.

“Mm,” Bucky whispered against her lips after a few moments. “I think I could get to like that. Especially your feeding method.”

Beth chuckled, squeezed on his wrist lightly. “Wait a moment. I forgot the marshmallows!”


	18. Rumlow/Jemma, 2, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**Mistletoe** _
> 
> _Takes place in the[You Need To Trust Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3174876/chapters/6896176) ‘verse, a couple of years later. Jemma’s pregnant. If you forgot, one of the enhancements that Brock ended up with in this ‘verse is a pheromone that’s a variant on sex pollen :D_

“Get down off that ladder right now!”

“No.”

“God damn it, Jemma!”

She looked down at him and grinned. “Stop being such a grumpy bear. I’m almost done.”

“You shouldn’t be up there in the first place!” He stood, arms folded, at the base and stared at her intently, debating internally whether it would be safer to let her finish and come down in her own time, or just pull her off into his arms. But then she was a good six feet off the ground, and the fall might startle her… hmm, maybe he could _lure_ her down.

“Turn that off,” she glared at him. “I’ll come down in my own time, and that’s when I’ve finished this. Pheromones are _cheating_.”

“Really?” He smirked up at her. “So is going up a ladder in a short skirt, frankly.”

“Oh!” She looked down. “I never even thought of that – it’s not that short…”

“Maybe it didn’t used to be before your bump swelled up so temptingly.” Brock eyed her exposed thighs.

“You’re such a letch.”

He smiled. She resolutely turned her attention back to her task.

“There,” she said finally. “Done.” Moving back, she slowly, carefully began to descend the ladder, and Brock finally saw what she had been working on so intently.

“Jemma,” he chuckled, catching her gently around the waist to lift her from the ladder. “You needn’t have bothered with the mistletoe. You know very well I’m happy to kiss you whenever and wherever you like.”

She whacked him around the head with her handful of leftover ribbon before melting into him as he kissed her very thoroughly indeed.


	19. Rumskye, 4, requested by dwyn5002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Snowed in_ **
> 
> _Takes place in the Stockholm Syndrome Works Both Ways ‘verse. Before the cubs come along :D_

The door slammed, making Skye jump and look around. Brock shook himself slightly before reaching for the clothes he’d left lying by the door.

“Don’t bother on my account,” Skye said with a grin, and he laughed and came over to where she was sprawled on the couch.

“I’m a bit wet,” he warned. She only raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled before shifting again and rolling to his back, opening his paws in invitation. She let out a happy little squeal of delight before diving in, snuggling into the thick, soft winter fur on his belly.

“I’ve never been so happy to be snowed in,” Skye mumbled ecstatically. “Got the best fur rug to keep me warm.”

The tiger’s rumbling purr sounded a good deal like laughter.


	20. Rumlow/Rollins/Skye, 10, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Cookies_ **

“I’m telling you, _lebkuchen_ are the best Christmas cookies ever. My Nonna swore by them.”

Brock and Skye looked at each other, before looking back at Jack, wearing identical expressions of confusion. He sighed, shaking his head. “You poor little neglected orphans.”

That made Brock snort, and Skye made a face at Jack. He reached out a long arm with a spatula held in his hand and smeared icing across her nose.

“Your face will freeze like that.”

Brock cracked up at Skye’s outraged expression. “I bet your Nonna said that, too!”

Jack grinned. “Something similar. In German.”

Skye was peering cross-eyed at the white frosting on the end of her nose, and she looked so adorable that Jack couldn’t resist bending to kiss it off. She made grumpy noises at him, but chuckled under her breath as he sucked on the tip of her nose.

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Brock said thoughtfully, “but you put icing on the wrong tip…”

Skye shrieked as the two of them tackled her, stripping her out of her clothes. “Guys! Seriously! Oh my god,” as Brock grabbed the spatula and smacked her thigh with it.

“Put her on the table,” Brock rasped. “ _This_ is the kind of Christmas treat I’m looking forward to.”


	21. Bucky/Kitty, free choice, requested by taleasadubh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_I chose… Candy Cane_ **

She was going to drive him totally, utterly, completely insane. How was he supposed to concentrate on anything, much less making coherent, polite conversation with her friends and team-mates, when Kitty was sitting on the kitchen table, not chattering away as she usually did, just listening to others talk. All the while, sucking and licking on a red-and-white striped candy cane, her little pink tongue curling around the hooked end.

Bucky had to look away. He heard Kitty’s husky chuckle from across the room and gritted his teeth. The little minx. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing to him. He wasn’t going to look at her. He _wasn’t_.

Kitty’s eyes narrowed as Bucky resolutely turned his back on her. She’d seen the look on his face, the way his lips parted and his pupils blew wide.

“You are so gone on that man,” Jubilee, sitting beside her, chuckled quietly.

“Damn right I am. And he’s not going to get away with ignoring me.” Slipping off the table, candy still clutched in her hand, Kitty went to stand directly behind Bucky – and began to slurp and lick at the candy cane as loudly as she could.

Bucky’s back went completely rigid – and he spun round, staring down at her. She smirked at him, cheeks hollowing as she sucked on the cane.

“You are a bad, bad girl,” Bucky choked out.

She pulled the cane from between her lips with a _pop_. “What’cha gonna do about it, then?”

There was general laughter around the room as Bucky lost his head entirely, scooped Kitty up and slung her over his shoulder. She grinned and waved her candycane merrily at her friends as he carried her out of the room.


	22. Clint/May, 3, requested by lark-cale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Snowballs_ **

“What the hell are you doing?”

Clint turned to see his soulmate, hands propped on her hips, staring at him.

“Stockpiling, of course,” he told her obligingly. “If we’re having a snowball fight, we need plenty of ammunition placed at strategic locations.”

May looked around at the neat pyramids of consistently-sized snowballs, placed, as he had said, at strategic location with excellent lines of sight to chokepoints the opposing team would have to breach.

“You’re planning a snowball fight like a military operation,” she said slowly.

“Yes?” he gave her a puzzled look. “Doesn’t everybody?”

“I’m going to need you to come inside now, Clint Barton,” May told him decisively, grabbing his arm. “I’ve got a _very pressing need_ I need you to take care of first.”

He grinned, following her more than willingly. “I love it when you get all bossy with me.”


	23. Sam/Jemma, 8, requested by me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Decorating_ **
> 
> _Inspired by a picture I saw on Tumblr which you will see at the end of the story!_

“Jems,” a plaintive voice called as she closed the apartment door behind her, “that you?”

“Who else would it be?” she called laughingly, hanging up her coat and taking her boots off. “Were you expecting someone?”

“No, I – I’m glad you’re home, though.”

Curious as to why he hadn’t come to the door to meet her, she walked towards the sound of his voice, judging that he was in the apartment’s tiny third bedroom, which they used as a store-room for the most part.

“Sam?”

“In here.” His voice sounded resigned, which was not a tone Jemma associated with her soulmate at all. Concerned now, she pushed open the door and began to laugh.

“Please,” he looked up at her pathetically from the midst of the tangle, “help?”

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Miscllaneous/sam%20wilson%20fairy%20lights_zps0mxmtrjl.jpg.html)


	24. Daisy/Loki, 12, requested by chandak562

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Santa Claus_ **
> 
> _Chandak asked for Daisy being a great stepmom to Loki’s kids, but a) I’m pretty sure Loki’s kids are either nonhuman, grown-up, or both, and b) I actually prefer the idea of Loki not actually having any kids and being completely horrified and revolted when he hears the legends about them :D_
> 
> _So instead, I wrote something just as fluffy, but slightly different – hope it satisfies your needs anyway!_

The third day in a row Daisy was nowhere to be found when he left the council chambers, Loki’s curiosity got the better of him. As a new Princess of Asgard, she might go anywhere she wished as long as she was properly escorted, of course, but he still wanted to know what she found so interesting that she barely returned to their rooms in time to change for dinner.

Asking her would have been the easy answer. Which had never been Loki’s way. He asked Sif instead; she laughed at him and told him to ask Daisy.

So the next afternoon, he followed her. Found, to his astonishment, that her destination was a school near the palace, one attended by children of high-ranking nobles – the very one he and Thor had attended themselves, many centuries before.

“Whatever is she doing here?” he murmured to himself, puzzled. Insatiably curious, he clothed himself swiftly in an illusion of invisibility and followed.

He found Daisy sitting on the floor in a circle of children, two of the littlest vying for a place in her lap. Somehow, laughing, she made room for both of them.

“Now what story would you like today, my dear ones?”

“Tell us about Santa Claus again, Princess Daisy!” a small boy begged.

“Oh yes, Santa Claus, Santa Claus!” the children all chorused immediately, and Daisy laughed.

“Of course I will. That’s my favourite too,” she stage-whispered.

Loki stood unseen at the back of the room, listening, no less fascinated than any of the young ones hanging on her every word. When she finished, one of the children asked;

“But is Santa Claus _real_ , Princess Daisy?”

She smiled mysteriously. “Perhaps he is, and perhaps he isn’t. Christmas is very soon on Midgard, just a couple of days away. Perhaps, if we all wish very hard, he might pay a visit to Asgard as well.” And she looked straight at where Loki stood invisible, and _winked_.

“How did you know I was there?” he demanded, half offended, as they walked back to the palace hand in hand an hour or so later. “You couldn’t have seen me…”

She gave him that half-smile that always enchanted him. “I always know when you’re close, my love. So. Will you do it?”

“Why don’t you ask Volstagg?” Loki hedged, knowing very well what she was hinting at. “He’s got the build, and the beard – I could cast an easy illusion to make it look white…”

“Lo-ki,” Daisy said, in a wheedling tone. “Please. For me. You could make it _actually_ magical.”

He growled under his breath, already knowing that he would be completely unable to say no. She laughed and squeezed on his hand.

“Thank you, darling. Look at it this way. It’s good practice.”

“For what?” he asked obtusely. She only laughed at him and gave him a secretive little smile.

It was the middle of the night when he sat bolt upright and said “ _Really_?” in a tone of astonished delight.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to figure it out,” Daisy mumbled into the pillow. “Now shut up. Pregnant ladies need their sleep.”


	25. Remy/Jemma, 16, requested by phoenix-173

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Hot chocolate_ **

 

“I’d be quite happy with just a regular hot chocolate, Remy,” Jemma leaned her hands on her chin and watched him with amusement.

“ _Mais non, mon ange!_ ” he looked at her with mock-outrage, never letting up with his intent stirring of the mixture in the saucepan. “You have not lived until you have tried Remy’s _special_ chocolate. That, I promise you.”

“And what _exactly_ is in this special chocolate? Apart from alcohol,” she eyed the bottle on the counter at Remy’s elbow. “Or is that some deep dark secret?”

“The ingredients are not the secret. The proportion of them, however, that is for me to know and you to enjoy,” he smirked at her, lifted the spoon to his lips to taste. “Ah, _c’est bon_.”

“So… the ingredients?” Jemma prompted as he filled two mugs, placed one in front of her.

“Chocolate, of course, but only the finest, as dark and rich as you can get. Rum, as you saw. Cinnamon, brown sugar, pure cream.” He smiled smugly as she took a sip and moaned in near-orgasmic delight. “Ah, petite. I do love it when you make noises like that.”


	26. Fitz/Mack, 19, requested by phoenix-173

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Icicles_ **

“You’re from _Scotland_ ,” Mack said in amusement, watching Fitz try unsuccessfully to control his shivers. “I thought you’d be immune to the cold.”

Fitz scowled up at his huge partner. “There’s a reason why I moved to the States and accepted SHIELD’s offer. Thought it might be warmer. I was hoping for an assignment to the Sandbox, actually.”

Mack full-on belly-laughed at that. “And now you’ve ended up in an underground base in the Appalachians with a heating system from the 1950’s.”

“Which is showing every year of its age!” Frustrated, Fitz smacked a recalcitrant pipe joint with his wrench. It bounced off with a loud _spang_.  “My fingers are like _icicles_ ,” he complained.

Mack chuckled deeply, plucking the wrench from Fitz’s hand and easily loosening the pipe. “Better get this fixed then. Because while you’ve got me to keep you warm, everyone else in the base is gonna be shivering until we sort it out.”


	27. Skye/Jack Rollins, 6, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Gifts_ **
> 
> _Skye and Jack are of course parents to Jack’s daughter Casey. Caution; this scene may cause your teeth to rot from sheer sweet fluffiness :D_

“She’s asleep,” Skye whispered, closing the door to Casey’s room and tiptoeing over to where Jack was waiting. “Finally!”

Jack grinned down at her. “She’s excited. Her first Christmas with a mom and a dad.”

“My first as a mom,” Skye smiled up at him happily. “Come on. It’s late, we’d better get started!”

The shopping bags were hidden in the top of the closet in their bedroom, the only place in the apartment Casey couldn’t get to. Indeed, Skye couldn’t get to it without standing on a chair; she watched as Jack reached up and easily lifted the bags down.

“How’s your assembly skills, then?” he asked.

“Well, I built a flat-pack IKEA table once,” Skye replied with a giggle, reaching for the glass of wine Jack had poured for her while she was singing Casey to sleep.

“Sure you don’t want to call Fitz or Mack in?”

“Definitely not!” She gave him an indignant look. “Now give me those instructions.”

“Pshaw, instructions…”

“Jack!”

He laughed. “I’m joking. I’m all for reading the instructions.” Sitting down on the bed beside her, he pored over the printed pages with her, and after a few minutes hummed thoughtfully and went to collect his toolkit.

It was almost midnight by the time they finished. Skye sat back on her heels, admiring the beautiful wooden dollhouse, fully furnished, even carpeted, tiny paintings hanging on the walls, a family of dolls in residence.

“She’s going to love it, Jack,” Skye said softly. “I’d have given my left arm for this when I was Casey’s age. Any little girl would.”

“I hope so,” Jack said quietly, carefully placing a tiny Welcome mat at the house’s front door. His hands looked enormous against the house, but he was deft and neat as he wrapped a huge red ribbon around the house, tying it in a surprisingly artful bow. “Let’s put it under the tree.”

It was far from the only gift under the Christmas tree, of course. Everyone on the base adored Casey, and there were stacks of gifts for her to open in the morning, as well as any number for Skye and Jack from their friends. They set the dollhouse in pride of place and stepped back to admire it, Jack’s arm slipping around Skye’s waist.

“It’s past midnight,” he remarked, “Christmas Day.”

“So it is,” Skye glanced at her watch. “We should get some sleep. I don’t doubt Casey will be up early.”

“I’m sure,” Jack chuckled, but he sobered quickly. “Skye – since it’s already Christmas Day, there’s a gift here that you could maybe open early.” Stooping down, he plucked an ornament from the lowest branches of the tree. Skye blinked as he put it in her hand; realised after a moment that it wasn’t an ornament, but a small box wrapped in shiny gold foil, hanging from the tree by a bright ribbon.

“What’s this?” she glanced up at him curiously. Saw his scar jump as his mouth moved convulsively.

“Just – just open it. Please?”

She looked at him curiously before tugging at the ribbon. The foil slithered away to reveal a distinctively pale blue box.

“ _Jack_ ,” she breathed, darting her eyes back up to his. “Oh, Jack.”

He reached out, when she only stood frozen, opened the lid of the box for her. Blue and white fire winked up at her from the ring nestled within.

“I love you,” he said, his voice soft and deep. “You are the most amazing thing ever to happen to me, you’re the best mom I could ever imagine to Casey. Marry me, Skye. Make our little family complete.”

Eyes filled with tears, the only answer she could give him was to take the ring from the box and slip it onto her finger, before reaching up to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him.


	28. Rumlow/Rollins/Skye, 5, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Fireplace_ **

Skye stood gaping at the charred, blackened mess in the fireplace before turning to look at her two soulmates, both of whom were trying, and failing, to look innocent. Jack kept his eyes well above her head. Brock was actually _whistling_.

She put her hands on her hips, and both of them took a very small, probably unconscious step back. She would probably have laughed at the image of the two big, muscled, most-dangerous-men-in-SHIELD, being afraid of _her_ , half their size dripping wet. If the room hadn’t been full of acrid smoke that was stinging her eyes, anyway.

“Which one of you is going to tell me what happened?” she demanded in a dangerously calm voice.

“Him,” comically, they both pointed at each other, and Skye failed to suppress her laugh completely. She managed to adequately disguise it as a cough, though. She hoped.

“Speak,” she pointed at Jack, who promptly looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Erm, well, we wanted to surprise you. We were hanging up a Christmas stocking over the fireplace, you see. Only, it was quite long, and Brock had built the fire quite high…”

“And I _told_ you not to put it in the middle!” Brock interrupted.

Skye looked with sudden dismay at the smoking pile. “You set fire to my Christmas presents?”

They both hung their heads like scolded small boys, and she melted. “It’s okay. I can tell it was an accident.”

“So sorry,” Jack mumbled, and Brock nodded agreement. She beckoned, and they came to her gratefully, enfolding her in their arms.

“It was only some small things. Little things. Your big present is still fine,” Brock said against her hair as she hugged onto both of them.

“Yeah, it’s safe in the garage,” Jack agreed. “Oops,” as she lifted her head and stared at him, eyes bright.

“Well, since you burnt the others, I think I should get that one _early_.”

That made them both laugh, and Brock nodded finally. “All right. Since I doubt we’d be able to stop you anyway. Good thing I didn’t put these in the stocking,” he said to Jack, pulling some keys from his pocket.

Skye grabbed them eagerly, her eyes bright. “A car? You bought me a _car_?”

“Come and look,” Jack invited, but she was too eager to wait, running ahead to the garage.

Where she found a gleaming, brand new, cherry-red Ferrari.

“For _me_?” she turned to stare at them in amazement as they followed her in, broad grins on both their faces. “ _This_ is _really_ for me?”

“You look so good in red,” Jack chuckled at her delight.

“And there’s nothing sexier than a gorgeous girl driving a fast car,” Brock agreed. “Except maybe a gorgeous girl _on_ a hot car,” he added thoughtfully as Skye petted the gleaming bodywork. Casting a meaningful glance at Jack, who grinned in perfect accord and took a step forward.


	29. Steve/Wanda, 2, requested by an-enigmatic-avenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Cookies_ **

“I do not know what he would want,” Wanda drooped disconsolately. Bucky had to resist the urge to pet her head. “He is not interested in material possessions.”

Bucky wracked his brain. “You know,” he said slowly after a few moments of thought, “I happen to know that there’s one thing Steve really misses, from the old days. And it’s not something that can be bought. You’d have to put in time. Effort.”

“ _Love_ ,” Wanda’s eyes shone. “What is it?”

“His mom, Sarah, she used to make these wonderful cookies. _Biscuits_ , she called them. It was an old Irish recipe, she said her mother taught her and her grandmother made it before.”

“Do you remember what was in them?” she asked eagerly.

“No clue. But Sarah Rogers, she called them ‘oaten biscuits’. Maybe you could try looking them up, try a few different recipes? I can taste-test them for you, help you get it right.”

She laughed at his hopeful grin. “If we can test in your apartment kitchen so Steve doesn’t find out. And you help with the washing-up.”

“Deal!”

_Twenty batches of cookies later…_

Steve blinked in surprise as Wanda handed him a brightly wrapped box from beneath the tree. Behind her, Bucky was grinning like a loon.

“What’s this, Wanda?”

She smiled up at him. “You’re a very difficult man to buy gifts for. So instead, I made you something. Bucky helped,” she glanced over her shoulder with a smile.

“I did indeed,” Bucky said virtuously, “had to dispose of the evidence of the failures.”

Wanda rolled her eyes and flicked her fingers as Steve carefully unwrapped the box. Bucky let out a little yelp as a tiny spark of red power hit his neck, making him jump.

“Oh, Wanda,” Steve inhaled over the box, as the warm, oaty, raisin scent wafted up to him. “You _made_ these? How did you get the recipe?”

“Trial, error, and my good friend Google,” she admitted with a shy laugh.

“And your ever-helpful taste-tester,” Bucky pointed out, trying to steal a cookie. Steve slapped his hand away.

“It sounds like _you’ve_ had quite enough. These ones are _mine_ ,” he hugged the box to him possessively, grabbing a cookie and stuffing it into his mouth, his eyes closing with bliss as he chewed. “Nom, nom, nom. _Perfect_.”

Wanda smiled, snuggling close into Steve’s side, meeting Bucky’s eyes. He smiled back at her with a nod, and she knew that for once in her life, she’d managed to get everything just exactly right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A recipe for[Irish Oaten Biscuits](http://www.food.com/recipe/irish-oaten-biscuits-cookies-362362). But you do have to add a handful of raisins to get them just right!_


	30. Clint/Bobbi, 2, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Mistletoe_ **
> 
> _Not a soulmates AU. Hunter and Bobbi finally called it quits, the Avengers found out about Coulson and SHIELD - just before Christmas. Tony Stark invited everyone to a party at his place in New York, hoping for peaceful relations all around. Clint's not in the mood._

“So,” Clint leaned on the bar next to Phil, “how’s being not-dead treating you, then?”

Phil sighed, glanced sideways at the archer. “I’m sorry. Again.”

“ _I’m_ sorry that you didn’t feel you could trust me with your secret! I’ve only spent two fucking years dealing with the guilt of knowing I contributed to your death!”

“Clint, stop it,” May said sharply behind him, seeing Phil’s face twist with pain. “Coulson was under orders.”

Mouth tightening, Clint shook his head and stormed away, leaving his barely-touched drink behind on the bar. He found a dark corner and stood, nursing his anger.

“Coulson’s major flaw is his inability to share his burdens,” a light voice said, and he turned his head to see the tall, stunning blonde who’d come with Phil’s team. Holding his drink out in a long-fingered hand. _Morse_ , he remembered. _Barbie? No, Bobbi, that was it._

“You’re not wrong,” he agreed with a wry half-smile, accepting the glass.

“Sometimes I think he’s even worse about keeping secrets than Fury. Then I remember that Fury was operating out in the open, supposedly, and realise Coulson’s probably in the right. Most of the time, anyway.” She leaned against the wall beside him, and Clint admired her profile.

“Yeah,” he allowed, taking a sip of his drink. “Most of the time. Though it’s a bit rough to let one of your best friends carry the guilt for your death for two years when you weren’t actually dead.”

“It took him almost a year to admit to me that _Fury_ wasn’t dead, and I was working for SHIELD the whole time,” Bobbi deadpanned back.

Clint laughed at that. Looked at her again. She was taller than him, probably about the same height in bare feet, he guessed, but in her heeled boots she topped him by a good three inches. Statuesque. Stunning. He caught sight of something a little above her head and grinned.

“Did you choose that spot on purpose to distract me from my troubles, Agent Morse? You’ve succeeded.”

“Hm?” Bobbi looked at him, surprised, then up, spotting the mistletoe a second later. A blush spread suddenly across her features, and, completely thrown, she stuttered out; “I – no! I didn’t! I – wouldn’t. Not to _you_.”

He blinked, surprised, and she cast her eyes down and looked embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, Agent Barton. I just – you’re a legend at SHIELD. I – I thought you deserved better than whatever non-answer Coulson would have given you.” She glanced sideways quickly at him, found him studying her intently, and then he smiled again.

“Not Agent Barton any more. Call me Clint.”

“Clint,” her voice trembled a little on the word. “I’m Bobbi.”

“It’s bad luck to just ignore the mistletoe, Bobbi.” His grin was a little wolfish as he set his drink on a ledge and moved closer to her. “So whaddaya say?”

 _Oh God_ , thought Bobbi, feeling her stomach suddenly swoop and dip. _Here comes the rollercoaster again._


	31. Victor/Darcy, 2, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Mistletoe_ **

Victor got particularly antsy in the winter, Darcy discovered. Particularly when the snow fell deep and thick around the Avengers Facility.

She completely understood how he felt. At least he could go out, though. Strong enough to bull his way through the thick snow until he got to the tree line and could move more easily. Darcy, though, was stuck inside unless she could convince one of the flyers to take her out. And most of them didn’t particularly like the cold.

It was early December, and to counter her cabin fever she started Christmas decorating. It was a big facility, and most of the inhabitants weren’t that bothered, but she soon recruited Sam and Steve, at least, to help with things she couldn’t reach. Fascinated, Vision watched from a distance, but she soon had him hovering up at ceiling height pinning up tinsel.

Victor watched in slightly surly silence from a short distance. He understood, intellectually, that Darcy had absolutely no romantic interest in any man other than himself, but his instincts made him literally unable to let her out of his sight when there were other men around.

She protested, of course. He only shrugged – and remained silently watchful. Secretly, Darcy found it rather endearing, not that she would ever tell him that. It would only encourage him.

“Mistletoe!” she decided. “That’s what we’re missing. We need some mistletoe.”

“I could obtain some for you, if you wish,” Vision offered. “I believe there is some growing in the woods not far distant from this facility.”

Darcy sighed. “Damn, I wish I could go pick it myself.”

“I could convey you…” Vision started, but before he could complete the sentence, Victor spoke up.

“I know where it is. I’ll take you.”

Everyone turned to look at him in surprise. But none of the men said anything, as Victor moved up close to Darcy and put a possessive hand around her waist. She looked up at him in surprise. “You will?”

“Yeah,” he gave one of his close-lipped smiles, but his eyes gleamed. “Gotta make sure we get that mistletoe.”


	32. Bucky/Clint/Skye, 13, requested by jdho2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Snowman**

Clint woke late that morning. Groaned and stretched, feeling the pleasurable ache in his abs and hamstrings, smiled at the memory of the night before. His soulmates had certainly given him a working over for his birthday.

Talking of whom… he turned his head, looked both directions, but the bed, and the bedroom, was empty except for himself. His gaze snagged on something wrong – something missing – he stared in horror at the empty spot on the wall.

“My bow!” Scrambling up, his feet tangled in the bedclothes and he tumbled out of bed, rolling athletically and coming to his feet, racing through the apartment, totally unconcerned about his nakedness. “GUYS! What did you do with my BOW?”

Skye and Bucky were nowhere to be seen. He was just starting to panic when he spotted the sheet of paper on the kitchen counter. _Look outside_ , was printed on it in Skye’s spidery script.

Hurrying to the window, he looked outside, and there, in the snow, he found his soulmates.

And a snowman.

Holding his bow.

Clint groaned and opened the window, sucking in his breath as the cold air hit him. “Guys. My bow!” Although now he looked closely – that wasn’t his bow at all, it was one of the training bows from the range. They’d hidden his to give him a scare, he realised, and shook his head, leaning on the windowsill. “God, you’re such a pair of trolls.”

Bucky grinned up at him, shoving a carrot into the snowman’s face. A very crooked carrot, Clint couldn’t help but notice. “Of course you were more worried about the bow than your missing soulmates.”

“You two can take care of yourself. And there’s no way my nose is that bent.”

“Bucky, Bucky,” Skye chided, “that’s not the carrot for his _nose_.”

“And my cock certainly isn’t that _small_!”

They were both laughing their asses off at him, but he didn’t mind. Bucky laughed far too seldom anyway, and he loved to hear Skye’s laughter.

“That’s what you get for lingering in bed instead of coming out to help, lazybones!” she called up to him, her cheeks red, her dark hair fluffing around her face where it poked out from under her woolly hat.

“Well,” Clint shrugged negligently, “I was just enjoying the lingering sensations from last night. And wishing my soulmates had stuck around for round five.”

Skye and Bucky looked at each other, looked at the snowman, then at Clint.

“Remind me why we got out of bed again?” Bucky asked.

“I really have no idea. Reckon we should head back there.”

“Yup.”

Clint grinned, closed the window and headed back to bed himself. He’d just wait for them there…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got slightly NSFW on me, but I know very well that jdho2 won't mind :)


	33. DaisyBones (aka RumSkye), 4, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sequel to[THIS](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5424140/chapters/12532781) drabble_
> 
> **_Snowed In_ **

 

“No snowball fights today,” Brock came up behind Daisy where she was peering out of the window, slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, bending his head to kiss her neck.

“No chance,” Daisy agreed, watching the thickly whirling flakes outside. It was a blizzard out there; even Brock wouldn’t chance going out in it. He’d relocated the woodpile to the house’s porch the day before – after pelting her with snowballs, that is – and had also brought in more than enough wood to last for a couple of days, stacking it on a tarp in their small utility room.

“You’re cold,” Brock discovered, his face against her throat. Her skin felt cool; her hands, when he reached for them, icy. “Come back to the stove, love.”

“I don’t feel cold,” but his skin felt furnace-hot against hers, so Daisy realised that she must be at least a little chilled. “Oh, all right then.” She gave in and let him lead her back to the woodburning stove and the comfortable couch they’d placed close in front of it. “Mm,” she settled into the warm seat, smiled even more happily as Brock sat down beside her. At once she wriggled into his lap, rubbing her cheek on his thick sweater, breathing in his warm, masculine scent.

“This is the best feeling,” Brock said dreamily after a few minutes of quiet snuggling. “Don’t you wish we could stay like this forever?”

She began to laugh, twisting to look up at him. “What a pretty fantasy, darling, but I know you too well. You’d be stir-crazy and calling May to come pick you up within a week. In need of a mission to go kick ass and take names somewhere.”

He had to grin at that. “Yes, Ms. Pot.”

“Never said I wouldn’t be right there on the quinjet with you.” She snuggled back into his arms. “But you’re right. This is lovely.”

“For a while, at least. Until it’s time to go kick ass and take names again.”


	34. Fitz/Natasha, free choice, requested by miss-moonstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_I pick… 18, Holiday Get-togethers_ **

“This isn’t a good idea, Leo,” she said, for the hundredth time.

“Trust me,” he replied, clutching her hand a little tighter, “this is _much_ better than the alternative.”

“Which is…?”

“My mother and grandmother deciding that I’m lying about having found my soulmate and descending on New York to track me down and try, once again, to convince me to go home to the farm.”

Natasha had to grin at that. “I still can’t get over the fact that you grew up on a farm.”

Fitz made a face at her, and she ruffled his curls affectionately. His eyes glazed over and he leaned in towards her. He looked so adorable that she couldn’t resist tightening her fingers in his hair and pulling him in for a fierce kiss.

“Leopold?” an utterly astounded pair of female voices said in unison a couple of minutes later, and Natasha broke off the kiss immediately, cursing herself for getting distracted enough in a public place to let a couple of civilian women sneak up on her. But then her soulmate was very distracting.

Fitz groaned and hid his face against Natasha’s neck. “Can the earth swallow me up now, please?” he mumbled.

She chuckled quietly, petting his hair, thoughtfully studying the two women staring at her in open-mouthed shock. Leo’s mother and grandmother, she knew, his only living relatives. She could see the resemblance; they both had his blue eyes, his rounded face, the high, intelligent brow.

“It’s okay, Leo. Hi, I’m Natasha,” she gently disentangled herself from Fitz’s clutches, holding out her hand.

“But – you can’t be Leopold’s soulmate,” the older woman said incredulously. “You’re – _stunning_.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Natasha arched a brow.

“You must have your pick of men!” There was bristling, Natasha noticed. Mother hens trying to protect their chick. _Wow. No wonder Leo had fled for a different continent the moment SHIELD offered him the opportunity._

“Indeed. And I picked Leo,” she squeezed Leo’s hand.

“I don’t believe it. This is a hoax,” Fitz’s mother spoke for the first time.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Natasha’s voice was smooth, silky, just a little of the danger showing.

Mrs. Fitz swallowed convulsively. “No. No, of course not. I – I’m delighted to meet you, Natasha.”

_That’s right, lady. Be afraid. Because Leo is mine to protect. Not yours._


	35. Wade/May, 14, requested by crumbledazphalt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Ice skating_ **

_Couldn’t resist this one since Papa May talked about May’s past as a competitive child figure skater on AoS recently!_

“Don’t touch that!” May made an unsuccessful grab at the picture Wade had just lifted off the sideboard.

“Ah, little Melinda,” her father said wisely. “She was a wonderful skater. I wish you could have seen her. Such grace – such determination!”

“I know all about her grace and determination,” Wade murmured, “but I didn’t know on the ice was where it began.” He studied the picture thoughtfully. He guessed May was about eight in it, which probably meant she was actually eleven or twelve, considering her small size.

May grabbed the picture from his hand and set it down. “Thanks for the tea, Dad. We have to go, I’m afraid.”

Her father gave her a wise look, but for once said nothing, just kissed her cheek, shook Wade’s hand and saw them out.

“So,” Wade said gaily, “when are you going to come skating with me?”

She cast a wry look around at the desert surrounding them as they drove away. “In _Nevada_?”

“Don’t give me that. We’ll be back in Virginia in a couple hours, and it’s the middle of the winter. I’m sure we can find a nice frozen pond somewhere. If not an ice rink.”

“I don’t have any skates,” she prevaricated.

“Me neither,” Wade said gaily, “but SHIELD are so efficient, I’m sure they can have some ready for us by the time we get back!”

“You’re doing that irresistible force thing again,” May glanced at him sideways.

“How else am I supposed to deal with the immovable object that is Melinda May?” he grinned back at her.


	36. Bucky/Bobbi, 15, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _Frost_  
>  **

“Let’s go somewhere. Hawaii. I hear that’s nice,” Bucky said out of the blue one morning, as he looked out of the window of their apartment.

Startled, Bobbi looked up from her coffee. “Hawaii?” she queried. “Why Hawaii?”

“It’s warm all year round. Or we could go somewhere in the southern hemisphere. Brazil – Australia – South Africa, perhaps. I’ve been there before. I think.”

Utterly bemused, she joined him at the window, looked out to try and see what was bothering him so much. She saw nothing unusual apart from a light coating of white on the grass, the first frost of the season.

_Frost..._

_Oh, I see..._

“Bucky,” she grazed his hand lightly with her fingertips. “Just taking off is out of the question, of course.”

“Of course,” he smiled wryly, his eyes never leaving the whitened grass. “Just a happy thought, Bob.”

“But… Coulson did mention something about Daisy unearthing some more Hydra bank accounts in the Bahamas, with safety deposit boxes down there. May was absolutely terrible at playing a Chinese businesswoman, but do you think you could pull off, maybe, scary bodyguard to a Russian oligarch’s girlfriend?”

Bucky turned his head to look at her, an incredulous grin spreading across his face. “Baby, that’s a part I was born to play.”


	37. Darcy/Victor, 6, requested by midnightfuckingmayor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Gifts_ **

Victor watched indulgently as Darcy played Santa by the tree, picking up parcels and reading off name tags, making their owners come forward to collect their gifts. She really did love Christmas; she’d thrown herself with such energy into the preparations, baking up a storm, decorating what seemed like the entire facility. He grinned reminiscently, thinking about their trip into the woods to collect the mistletoe. With that sort of incentive, he could really get to like Christmas as well.

“‘Tall and Snarly’,” Darcy read from the gift tag, “‘from Hawkeye.’ Clint, you’re such an ass.”

The archer grinned from his perch atop the couch. “You know it, darlin’.”

“Well, come and collect, Victor,” Darcy glanced over at him.

“Me?” Victor startled. “You – bought _me_ a gift?”

Clint cocked his head briefly, and then smiled. “Yeah. You’re one of the family now, Snarly.”

Startled, Victor accepted the parcel. Opened it to find a pair of beautifully made fingerless combat gloves, sized perfectly for his massive hands. Vicious, backward-curving spines in three rows traced up to his wrist. A backhand slap with a glove, with the force Victor was capable of, could rip an enemy to pieces.

“I made them,” Clint said, when Victor seemed lost for words. “Darcy borrowed a pair of your gloves so I got the size right…”

Victor knew how much time Clint put into making his gear absolutely perfect, how he made his own gloves and armour – and how it wore and lasted even better than Stark gear.

“Thank you,” he said, a little numbly. “Thank you so much, I don’t deserve…”

“Of course you do,” Sam said cheerfully. “You deserve a lot more. You saved my ass last month in Tashkent; without you I’d have been a smear on the sidewalk. Give him my present next, Darcy.”


	38. Clint/Bucky/Jemma, 7, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Shopping_ **

 

Bucky’s nostrils were flared, his eyes wide. Backed against the wall, he resembled nothing so much as a skittish horse ready to bolt.

“This was a really terrible idea,” Jemma remarked to Clint, watching Bucky anxiously.

“Yup, and I’m really glad I made him give me all his weapons before we came out.” Clint headed over to their soulmate hurriedly. “Buck. Bucky!”

“Clint.” Bucky’s voice was tight and strained. “Have you guys found what you came for?”

“Yes.”

“But Bucky didn’t get anything for…” Jemma trailed off at Clint’s sharp glance. “Actually, you know what, yes, absolutely everything. Let’s get going. The crowds are starting to get on my nerves.”

“They are, doll?” Bucky gratefully accepted Mission; Get Jemma Away From Christmas Shopping Crowds. “Let’s get you out of here, then.” He swept the shopping bags from her hands, put his free hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the door.

Jemma and Clint shared a private little smile.

“We can do the rest over the Internet. Let’s get home and settle in with the laptop. I can make some mince pies and mulled wine,” Jemma suggested.

“Sounds interesting; I’m willing to try it,” Clint said doubtfully, making Jemma chuckle.

“You’ll like it. I promise.”


	39. Jemma/Matt Murdock, 1, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Falling snow_ **

“It’s going to snow,” Matt predicted as he and Jemma headed home from the party, her hand threaded into the crook of his arm.

“It is not, it’s a lovely clear night. Stop being a gloomypants,” she laughed at him, and he smiled and squeezed her hand. She’d had quite a few glasses of champagne and turned delightfully giggly.

“I can smell it. It’ll snow before we get home. Best grab a cab.”

“No, I want to walk!”

He sighed. “As you like, angel.”

They weren’t even halfway back to his apartment when the first thick flakes came whirling down from above. Even Matt’s sensitive hearing didn’t pick them up, though, the soft fluffy landings of the first few escaping him until one landed right on the end of his nose.

“Were you going to mention that the snow had started, or just hope I didn’t notice?” he asked playfully, and Jemma burst out laughing.


	40. Scott Lang/Jemma, 18, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Holiday get togethers_ **

“I’m really nervous,” Jemma whispered as Scott led her up the steps.

“Don’t be,” he squeezed her hand. “Cassie will adore you because I adore you. Maggie is a sweetheart, really, and though I used to think Paxton was a bit of an asshat he’s actually a decent guy. He doesn’t try to arrest me anymore, anyway. Well,” he paused to think. “Not often. It’s been at least six weeks.”

That had the intended effect of making Jemma smile, though her fingers were still cold and trembling in his as he rang the bell.

“DADDY’S HERE!” a childish voice shrieked from inside, and through the frosted glass Jemma saw a small figure leaping up and down, another small figure bouncing excitedly alongside. A dog? Although – she peered more closely. A dog that seemed to have rather a lot of legs.

“Oh,” Scott said suddenly. “Oh _shit_ , I forgot to warn you about Ant-Dog…”

The door opened, an ant the size of a Doberman leaped excitedly at them, and Jemma screamed aloud and fainted dead away in Scott’s arms.

She came to on the couch, a kindly-faced woman fussing over her, a small girl with Scott’s eyes crouched beside her telling off the giant ant.

“Now see here, Andy, you scared Daddy’s beautiful girlfriend nearly to death, and she won’t like us if you do silly things like that…”

Jemma smiled weakly, pushing herself upright. “Of course I will. I was just a bit nervous about meeting you, and Andy gave me a fright, that’s all.”

“Oh good!” Cassie turned shining eyes on her, smiling brightly. “I was scared you wouldn’t like us,” she confided.

“On the contrary, I’m delighted to meet you, and Andy. How long have you had him? What species is he, do you know?”

From the corner of her eye Jemma saw Scott’s grin as Cassie settled in beside her, patting Andy’s head and babbling away excitedly.


	41. Clint/Natasha/Skye, 18, requested by luna-orlha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Holiday get-togethers_ **

“So none of us have any family,” Skye looked around at her soulmates. Natasha just shook her head silently. Clint snorted.

“Trust me, sweetheart, you’re better off not ever meeting my brother. He’s elevated being the black sheep of the Barton family to an art form.”

“And my dad doesn’t actually know he’s my dad. So – we’ll need to organise our own little get-together.” Skye smiled brightly.

Natasha turned her head to look at Clint and said something in Russian way too rapid for Skye to follow. Clint grinned.

“What did she say? I didn’t catch a word of that!” Skye said plaintively.

“Just that she has an ominous feeling that you are going to turn into some sort of Christmas celebration demon elf.” Clint shrugged, dodged away from Natasha’s elbow aimed at his ribs. “It doesn’t translate all that well.”

“And _you’re_ being a Scrooge,” Skye told Natasha, who rolled her eyes.

“Christmas, it’s all so overblown. All this conspicuous consumption, a competition as to who can afford the fanciest gifts…”

“That’s not what Christmas is about,” Skye shook her head. “Let me tell you about my idea, anyway.”

As she talked, Clint’s eyes brightened, and even Natasha leaned forward, captivated. “Yes,” the Russian said when Skye talked, “yes, we must do this. I’ll go beat up Stark for a credit card.”

“No beating necessary,” Tony said when she told him, “take this one. There’s no limit on it.”

It took weeks, and the recruiting of Pepper Potts to help organise. The staff at FAO Schwartz came to dread the appearance of any one of the Avengers at the store.

“We’re out of Black Widow and Quake merchandise _again_ ,” one senior manager complained to another, “and there’s only about six Hawkeye action figures and two bows left…”

“Then you’d better order some more, hadn’t you? And send a note to the maker’s. They’re not making _nearly_ enough stuff for girls.”

On Christmas morning, though, there were enough presents, wrapped by Stark Industries staff and Avengers, and delivered to every children’s home and community group in the city, for every orphaned, fostered, unloved and underprivileged child to have at least one. Screams of joy were like music to Skye’s ears as the kids in the church she, Clint and Natasha had chosen to attend opened their gifts.

“You were right,” Natasha gave her a hug, in passing, heading for the kitchen to go help serve up the huge Christmas lunch Stark’s money had also paid for. “Christmas really is about the joy of giving, isn’t it?”


	42. Skye/Peter Parker, 8, requested by dwyn5002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Decorating_ **

“I’m going to hire you out to the city,” Skye decided.

“What?” Peter twisted his head to look down at her.

“Well, it would have to be a lot cheaper than the public liability insurance and danger money and I don’t know what all else they have to pay men to go up and decorate tall buildings and stuff.”

“That… is actually not the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. But… how would we get paid? I don’t think they’re going to make checks out to ‘Spider-Man’.”

“I’ll be your agent, of course,” Skye smiled up at him brightly. “Come on, Peter,” she wheedled. “Even if not the city, some of the big corporations would definitely love to have Spider-Man giving them some publicity, hanging up their Christmas decorations.”

Webbed to the ceiling, carefully pinning tinsel into the corners, Peter sighed. “As long as you don’t try and get OsCorp or Hammer Industries to hire me, I’ll think about it.”


	43. Skye/Peter Parker, 18, requested by limerentluna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Holiday get togethers_ **

“I’m kind of nervous,” Skye confessed as Peter pulled the key from his pocket, slipped it into the lock. “What if she doesn’t approve of me? I’m the older woman, after all…”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” he gave her an amused look, closing the door behind them and stooping to unlace his boots. “Aunt May knows very well that I was born with my soulmark.”

Skye kicked off her boots as well, hung her coat on the peg beside Peter’s. He reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Trust me, my love. Aunt May is so excited to meet you. She’s been begging me for weeks to persuade you to come over.”

“I’m sorry…” Skye began, but he shook his head at her gently.

“It’s okay. I still didn’t get up the courage to come and meet your team.”

“Yeah, but there’s a lot more of them, and you’ve got a superhero secret identity! I’m just terrified of meeting one sweet little old lady.”

He chuckled and kissed her. “You two are going to get on like a house on fire. I just know it.” Reaching out, he opened the door into the kitchen. “We’re here, Aunt May!”

The most wonderful smell wafted out to meet them, and Skye took an instinctive step forward, following her nose, into the warmest, homeliest kitchen she’d ever seen. Aunt May turned from the stove, a pumpkin pie fresh out of the oven held in the mitts in her hands.

“Peter, and Skye! How wonderful!” Beaming, she set the pie down, bustled over and held out her arms for a hug, pausing when she noticed she was still wearing the oven mitts. Looking at Skye from bright, twinkling eyes, she said “Ooops,” and chuckled merrily. “I’m afraid I had a sherry for Dutch courage, dear girl!”

Skye burst out laughing and hugged Aunt May when the older woman set the mitts aside. “Peter confiscated the vodka,” she whispered in Aunt May’s ear.

“He’s naughty like that.” May hugged her tight, then pulled back, smiling. “I can see you and I are going to get along famously, dear. Now do sit down and have a slice of this pie. Peter? Would you get the brandied cream out of the refrigerator?”


	44. Bucky/Bobbi, 3, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Snowballs_ **

One of the perks of living in an underground base, Bobbi reflected, was that she didn’t have to put up with crappy weather too much. Except on missions. And then she was too busy usually running around beating the crap out of enemies to feel cold.

How Bucky did his thing, she couldn’t imagine. Lying still, in all manner of weather, for hours and even days on end, waiting for just that one shot. It would drive her mad. Stillness had never been her forte. She chaffed now, shifting her weight slightly from foot to foot, waiting for May’s signal.

A sudden light thump to the back of her head, and a wet feeling in her hair, made her turn her head incredulously. A clump of snow fell to the ground.

“Oh, you did _not_ just do that,” she said quietly, switching to a private comms channel.

“Did I not?” Bucky’s amused voice said in her ear.

She couldn’t even _see_ him. She knew he wasn’t far away, up in a tree, lying on a branch, waiting for his shot.

“I’ll get you back for that,” she threatened.

“Big talk, Agent Morse,” and a snowball hit her _right in the face_.

Spitting out snow, Bobbi started forward, revenge the only thing on her mind. She was going to rub her boyfriend’s face in some yellow snow, if she had to pee in it herself…

“Alpha team, go!” May’s voice snapped in her ear, and she cursed.

“You are so gonna pay for that later, buster,” she growled as she started running, a hail of bullets above her head taking down enemies in front of her as Bucky cleared her path.

“Looking forward to it, doll,” she heard the laugh in his voice.


	45. Rumlow/Skye, 16, requested by vigilantewives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Hot chocolate_ **

“Hey, baby,” Brock strode into the apartment, putting his go bag down by the door. “Mm, that smells good. What is it?” He blinked as Skye turned from the stove in the kitchen. She didn’t cook much, preferring to leave the chore to him, and he genuinely enjoyed it.

“Hot chocolate. Coulson gave me a recipe.”

“Yeah?” He eyed her appreciatively. She was wearing a red dress he’d never seen on her before, long and slinky, clinging to her hips and breasts, dipping low in the back. “Hot damn, but you look gorgeous.”

Skye laughed as he came over to her, sliding his big hands around her waist, bending his head to kiss her neck. He nipped lightly and she melted against him with a moan. “Brock… I’ll burn the chocolate…”

He glanced at the wooden spoon clutched in her fist, the chocolate melting in the pan. Reached out and turned off the gas.

“We’ll have it later. Right now, there’s another Christmas treat I want to unwrap.”


	46. Victor/Darcy, free choice, requested by thoroughbredchic26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You’ve done it now. My brain’s been ticking along on that Woods Chase scene for a while, and this was the perfect excuse to write it._
> 
> _Um… it’s smutty. M rated chapter here!_
> 
> **_Snowballs_ **

Darcy’s glee, when she woke one morning to find the first snowfall of the year had occurred overnight, utterly delighted Victor. She squealed and hopped up and down, childlike, at the window in their apartment, and then rushed for her closet and started tugging on clothes.

“Where are you going?” he rose from their bed, stretched lazily, reached for clothes of his own.

“There’s snow, Victor,” she said.

“So?”

“So I’m gonna build a snowman!” And she rushed out, singing _Do You Wanna Build A Snowman_ at the top of her lungs. Shaking his head, laughing indulgently, Victor reached for his boots and followed her.

He found her making a snow angel first before looking around to find a spot where a little snow had drifted up against a low wall. She started to gather snow into a pile, compressing it hard, but Victor could see that there really wasn’t enough, and it was really too soft and fluffy to make a good snowman. Nevertheless, wanting to see her get her wish, he went over to help, using his big hands to shovel snow over to her.

“Ugh, this isn’t happening,” Darcy said after a few minutes, stating what Victor already knew. “Rats.”

“I can get more snow,” he offered.

“Nah.” She looked across at where he stood a few feet away, scooping snow into a pile, and a cheeky little grin formed on her face. Making some snow into a fist-sized ball, she threw it.

The snowball hit Victor on the side of the head. Startled, he jerked upright, looked at Darcy incredulously. She grinned at him – and threw another snowball. This one splattered on his chest.

“You,” he took a step forward, “are gonna pay for that.”

“Yeah?” she laughed at him.

Victor’s eyebrows drew down, his upper lip curled up to reveal his fangs, a soft growl rumbling in his chest.

Darcy took a small step backward, slightly intimidated. Victor’s nostrils flared, scenting her sudden fright.

“Run,” Victor growled softly. Darcy took another step back, her gaze flicking left and right. “Run, little girl. And when I catch you, I’m gonna eat you all up.”

Blue eyes widened. He crouched, ready to pounce – and she ran, sprinting for the trees a scant thirty yards distant.

He gave her a count of ten before going after her, at a leisurely, ground-eating lope that was still faster than her flat-out sprint. Though she was quite quick, he acknowledged. She was in the trees fast, weaving in and out, picking the tightest spots between the pines where his big body would be a disadvantage.

Or so she thought.

The biggest problem, as Darcy discovered, was that she couldn’t darn well _see_ him. Or hear him. Victor moved so silently, so gracefully, that he seemed to become part of the woods, a silent shadow. Only occasionally did she even get a glimpse of him, glancing around wildly as she ran, out of breath as she wove in and out of trees, excited and a little frightened as well by the intensity with which he’d looked at her.

She saw a flicker of movement among the trees, turned away abruptly and ran fast – straight into Victor’s broad chest. Powerful arms closed around her.

“Got you.”

Darcy squealed and kicked as he lifted her off her feet and took one stride forward, pinning her back to the tree behind her with his body.

“You smell so tasty, little girl,” Victor growled. “Sweet and succulent.”

The very timbre of his voice had Darcy shuddering, wet between her legs. She’d only ever heard that voice from him in their bed, when he was in a particularly dominant mood.

“Victor,” she whimpered, clinging to his shoulders.

“I’ve caught you now, little girl. You’re mine. My prize.” He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent. “And I think you like it.”

She sucked in a panting, moaning breath as his fangs grazed her skin, a moment before his lips caught her earlobe, sucking hard. “Yours,” she conceded breathily.

Victor growled again, set her on her feet and yanked his coat off, spreading it on the pine needles. “Have to have you, Darcy.” His eyes gleamed greenish-gold in the faint, pale light beneath the trees. “Now.”

“You’ll have to keep me warm,” she warned as he lowered her to the coat.

“Oh, I’ll keep you warm,” Victor promised huskily. “Don’t you worry about that.”

His skin always felt furnace-hot to Darcy, his metabolism running hotter and faster than any normal human’s. The thick woolen coat still retained his body heat as he bared her skin against it, the sheer size of his body covering her, radiating warmth, insulating her from the cold air.

“So lovely,” Victor rumbled as he stripped Darcy’s clothes away from her. “And mine.”

“Yours,” she gasped as his fingers probed between her legs, his lips curving into a smile as he felt how wet she was. Lifting them to his mouth, he licked at them eagerly, making a pleasured, purring sound.

“Sweet. You liked being hunted down, Darcy? Being captured?”

“Being yours,” she whispered as he freed himself from his pants, his cock thick and eager, jutting proudly towards her.

“ _Mine_.” He lifted her knees, opening them wide, licking his lips as he looked down at her - but he was too eager to wait, and he could see that she was too, slick and shining with the juices of her arousal.

The first thrust was so deep Darcy saw stars; it wasn’t rough, just long and slow, never stopping until Victor was seated to the hilt inside her, his balls brushing against her ass. He set her ankles on his shoulders, grasped the front of her thighs and grinned down at her, showing his fangs.

“Goodness,” Darcy gasped, writhing on that deep impalement, her body already beginning an involuntary tightening that presaged her climax, “what a big cock you have, Mr. Tiger.” She’d long since learned that he didn’t like being called a wolf.

“All the better to fuck you with, my dear,” Victor’s growl was a little breathless too as she clenched hard around him. Drawing back slowly, he plunged deep again, relishing Darcy’s ecstatic cry.

Deep rumbling snarls came from Victor’s throat as he took her, fucking into her rough and deep, just as Darcy liked it. Her hips were lifted right off the ground, her breasts bouncing; she clung to his wrists, the only part of him that she could reach, trying to find an anchor, something to hold onto.

“That’s it,” Victor growled in a voice barely recognisable as human, as he saw Darcy’s eyelids flutter, her breath catch. “That’s it, my queen…”

She screamed his name, her body clenching tighter, back arching as she pushed her hips up still further, and Victor stilled, his own back bowing as the sleek muscles rippling around his cock drew his climax from him. He flung his head back and _roared_ , the triumphant cry of a great cat claiming his mate, and Darcy’s own screams of ecstasy echoed the sound, echoing around the quiet, snowy woods.


	47. Scott Lang/Jemma, free choice, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_I picked 12, Santa Claus. Because Luis needs to make an appearance._ **

“So let me get this straight,” Jemma murmured in Scott’s ear, “because some older kid at Cassie’s school told her Santa wasn’t real, you have convinced three of your buddies to break into the house dressed as Santa and a pair of elves.”

“Technically it’s not breaking in since Paxton and Maggie know they’re coming and have left a window unlatched.”

“And we need to be here why, exactly?”

“Well, I need to be here so that I can convince Ant-Dog not to attack on sight. And you need to be here because leaving my gorgeous girlfriend alone on Christmas Eve would be a really shitty thing to do.”

She smiled at that, reached up to kiss him. They were so absorbed none of them heard the van pull up until a voice spoke.

“I theenk he try to eat her face.”

“Yeah, you spendin’ too much time with them ants, Scott.”

Scott laughed, lifting his head. Embarrassed, Jemma hid her face against his shirt. He stroked her hair lightly.

“Guys, this is my soulmate, Jemma. Jemma, Kurt and Dave.”

The hacker and the driver, Jemma knew. She took a deep breath, moved back from Scott, and just about managed to contain her laughter.

Kurt was thin and dark-haired, sharp cheekbones speaking to his Slavic heritage. Dave was black and burly, nearly as big as Mack – and both of them were dressed in elf costumes of a green so lurid it almost glowed in the dark.

“Pretty lady from alien rock?” Kurt asked.

“Always knew your soulmate had to be an alien, Scott,” Dave grinned.

“I’m not actually an alien. I just got sucked into an alien rock,” Jemma said, but she could see they were both just teasing Scott. She held out her hand and they both shook politely. “Lovely to meet you both. Scott’s told me a lot about you.”

“That’s probably a bad thing,” Dave twinkled down at her.

“Where’s Luis?” Scott asked impatiently.

“In van,” Kurt said laconically.

The back door of the van thudded open just then and Santa fell out onto the road, swearing long and loud in Spanish.

Jemma failed to suppress the giggles this time as Scott cursed under his breath.

“Keep it down, Luis!” Scott hissed as he and Dave hurried to pick Santa up.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! These boots are two sizes too small, I told Dave to get me a size ten...”

“Thought you were exaggerating just like you do about your cock,” Dave said, and Jemma had to stuff her fist in her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Luis puffed up like an angry rooster. “I don’t exaggerate anything, you can ask your cousin Angelica, she can vouch for the size of my… feet,” he suddenly spotted Jemma. “Hey Scott, you brought your beautiful lady along on the heist! You could be Mrs Claus,” he grinned cheekily, eyeing Jemma’s red Christmas Eve dress.

“Behave, Luis,” Scott got between Luis and Dave, who was muttering,

“Wait, did he say my cousin Angelica?” and eyeing Luis darkly.

“We not have all night,” Kurt headed up the steps, and Scott pushed a hobbling Luis after him.

“Here’s the presents,” Jemma handed Luis a stuffed sack. “The Christmas tree is in the playroom upstairs.”

“I’m going in first,” Scott said, “so I can silence Ant-Dog. The ladder’s just there, Dave.”

Scott didn’t bother with the ladder, though. Just leapt agilely from the steps to the fence, to the windowsill on the upper floor, slid the window open and rolled gracefully through.

“Daaamn but he’s good at that,” Dave muttered, grabbing the ladder. “Go on, Kurt. You next.”

Jemma watched as the three men ascended the ladder. Luis struggled, padding in his stomach and his ill-fitting boots making him awkward. Jemma took the sack from him.

“Go. I’ll bring it up,” she whispered.

“You’re supposed to stay down here, Scott will kill me if anything happens to you…”

“Sshh!”

Luis sighed and ascended, muttering under his breath. Soon they were all crouched in the spare bedroom, all but Scott who had gone on ahead. Jemma peeked out the door and saw him kneeling at the end of the landing, facing Ant-Dog.

“All clear,” Scott glanced over his shoulder, saw her. “Jemma!”

“Sshh!” she held her finger to her lips, grinning.

Luis, Kurt and Dave crept past her, heading to the playroom. Luis had to turn around and come back for the sack, though. Jemma stifled her laughter all over again.

“All right,” Scott came to stand by Jemma, Ant-Dog at his heels. “Time for us to go. Ant-Dog is gonna open Cassie’s door and wake her, just in time to see those three creep out. They can let themselves out the front door.”

Jemma smiled and nodded, letting Scott help her to the window. They were half-way down the ladder when there was a loud THUMP from inside the house and childish screams.

“Shit!” Scott hastily reversed direction, and Jemma followed him. They scrambled back into the spare room and flung the door open.

Kurt and Dave stood frozen halfway down the stares, watching with wide eyes the scene on the landing. Luis was face-down on the carpet, Cassie sitting on his back, whacking him around the head with her rabbit toy.

“You’re _not_ the real Santa, he comes down the chimney, and we haven’t got one!”

Luis rolled over, grabbing her arms. “If you haven’t got a chimney, how am I supposed to get in to deliver your presents, then?” he asked in a totally reasonable voice, making Cassie pause to consider. Scott pulled the door almost closed again so she didn’t see them and he and Jemma watched through the crack.

“Did you deliver them?” Cassie asked in a small voice.

“My sack feels pretty empty…” he offered it, and she felt it thoughtfully.

“Come on, let’s go look under the tree. I’m not gonna tell you what I brought you ‘cause good girls should wait until Christmas morning to find out what all their special surprises are, but you can look at the parcels and see. Elves, go get the gifts for the next house on our list ready,” he waved a dismissive hand at Dave and Kurt.

“Yes, Mr Claus, sir!” Dave snapped a salute and shoved Kurt hastily down the stairs.

Luis led Cassie into the playroom, talking non-stop the whole way. They came back out a moment later, Cassie hanging her head a little.

“I’m sorry I tripped you up and hit you on the head, Santa,” she said quietly.

“That’s all right, you did very well, if ever you see a strange man in your house that’s exactly what you should do, and you should scream for Mommy as well so that she can call the police.”

“But Paxton _is_ the police,” Cassie said confusedly.

“And then he can arrest the bad men in your house!” Luis beamed down at her. She tugged on his hand, and he bent down to her. She flung her arms around his neck.

“I love you, Santa.”

Luis froze for a moment, his mouth open in surprise, and then he hugged her back. “Santa loves you too, Cassie. Now go back to bed like a good girl, and no opening your presents until Mommy and Paxton say so, okay?”

“I promise,” she said, and as she turned away Scott and Jemma saw that she had her fingers crossed behind her back.  



	48. Wanda/Remy, 12, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Santa Claus_ **
> 
> _Not part of my original Shorts AU for these two. A whole new meet-cute, because why the hell not!_
> 
> _Note: Ziemassvētku vecītis is Latvian and means “the old man of Christmas” aka Santa Claus!_

“This is a good thing, that Stark does,” Wanda said to Clint, watching across the room as Tony and Pepper held court at Stark Industries’ annual Christmas party for underprivileged children.

“You always sound so surprised,” Clint said with a slightly sardonic grin, “when something else happens to make you realise that Stark really isn’t the fount of all evil.”

Wanda looked slightly sheepish. “I know he is not. I just… oh, never mind. Oh!” she pressed a hand to her mouth, almost squeaking with excitement, and Clint was reminded just how young she really was, barely out of her teens. “It’s   _Ziemassvētku vecītis_!”

The children were all shrieking and clamouring around Santa, Clint noticed, wondering who Tony had press-ganged into putting on the suit. Not Happy, or Rhodey, his two most likely victims. And Clint could see all the other Avengers around the room. Santa was tall, too, Steve-sized when the two men passed by each other.

They watched as Santa seated himself and greeted the children gravely, presenting each with a gift, hugging those brave enough to come and sit on his lap or kiss his whiskery cheek.

“You can tell this is the real Santa,” one boy said to another, as they retreated to the back of the room to inspect their loot, “nobody human has eyes like that.”

“I know, they were _magic_ ,” the other boy agreed, and Clint grinned, realising who had to be playing Santa.

“I wonder how Stark conned LeBeau into that?” he murmured to Natasha.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Natasha gave him a sideways look. “Pepper just asked nicely. He seemed keen.”

“Huh,” Clint frowned, puzzled. Turned to check on Wanda, who still rarely strayed very far from his side. Saw a glass in her hand with something suspiciously pink in it. “Nat, please tell me you didn’t give the girl one of your cocktails.”

“Oh, loosen up, old man,” Natasha laughed and poked him in the ribs. “It’s Christmas. Have fun!”

“Ugh,” he looked back at Wanda in time to see her drain her glass and wander off towards Santa Claus, a smile forming on her lips.

The children had all received their gifts by now, and Remy could sit back and relax. He watched with appreciation as a beautiful young woman came over towards him. She was wearing a lacy black dress, scarlet high heels and lots of chunky silver jewellery; long straight dark brown hair fell clear to her waist.

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” he muttered under his breath, realising what she intended to do as she made a bee-line for him, smiling widely.

“Do you have something for me, Santa?” Wanda giggled, seating herself on Remy’s lap and hooking an arm around his neck.

Remy lost his breath for a moment. She looked at him quizzically, took in the strangeness of his eyes – reached for his mind. Her eyes widened.

“That depends on whether or not you’re a good girl, _chère_ ,” Remy said finally.


	49. Scott Summers/Skye, 17, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Sledding_ **

“Come on, Scott, stop acting like there’s a stick up your ass,” Kitty giggled at him, which made Scott stiffen even further, until Skye laid her hand gently on his arm.

“Scott, the kids want to see you having fun as well. Come on. Come and relax.”

He softened his stance after a moment. “I’ll come out with you, but you know I can’t risk sledding, Skye. If my visor comes off in a crash, it could be dangerous.”

“Ah!” her eyes widened with understanding. “Of course. But please, just come and watch.”

There was a large hill not far from the mansion, and a plentiful supply of sleds. Almost all of the students and staff were out there, trudging up towing their sleds and sliding down again with squeals of glee.

Scott studied the hill for several long minutes as Skye went for her first sledding run. When she returned, she saw him talking earnestly with Bobby and Ororo, gesturing at the hill.

“What’s going on?” Skye asked curiously, going over to join them.

“It’s too short, and too slow,” Scott said a little abruptly, “we’re going to fix it. Don’t let anyone go up for a few minutes, Skye?”

Curious, she obeyed, and soon Scott came over and gestured everyone well back.

Ororo went first, calling in a snowstorm which dumped a thick load of fresh snow at the bottom of the hill, which Bobby then used his abilities to sculpt into a smoothly curving ramp which would extend the length of the slide by half again at least. Finally, Scott walked up the side of the ramp, adjusting his visor to direct short bursts of visual energy at it, until it was fast and glassy-smooth.

“Anyone who wants to try it is welcome,” Scott advised them when he came back down, “though the rest of the hill is still there for anyone who doesn’t.”

Everyone took off up the hill screaming with excitement, leaving Skye and Scott alone at the bottom.

“Thank you,” Skye said fervently, going up and reaching to put her arms around his neck.

“What for?”

“Making the effort to create something you can’t even enjoy, something that’s just for fun for everyone else.”

He smiled down at her. “Honestly – I did it because I thought _you_ would enjoy it. That’s incentive enough for me.”

That deserved a kiss, which she delivered with passion, dragging his face down to hers and kissing him thoroughly.

“I’m gonna go try out your gift, then,” she told him when she let go, “and then we’re gonna head back to the mansion, because I’ve got something to give _you_.”

He smiled, catching the teasing glint in her eye. “I’m looking forward to it.”


	50. Clint/Jemma, 2, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Mistletoe_ **
> 
> Revisiting Truth In A Bottle, this scene occurs the night of the Christmas party at Avengers Tower scene in the Epilogue :D

“You really like it?” Clint asked Jemma a little sheepishly, seeing her twisting the ring around her finger again.

She reached up to put her hand against his cheek. “I love it. I’m just not used to wearing jewellery. Plus, I keep having to remind myself that this is all real, and I’m not living in some kind of fairytale dream.” Glancing meaningfully around the opulent penthouse full of superheroes and living legends.

That made Clint smile. “I pinch myself occasionally, but your way probably causes less bruises.” He reached out for her hand, drew her away from the chattering group to stand beside one of the windows. “You look beautiful tonight, if I didn’t say it already. I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Jemma glanced up. “There’s no mistletoe…”

“Don’t need no mistletoe to want to kiss you, angel.”


	51. Bucky/Jemma, 4, requested by jemmaagentofshield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Snowed in_ **

“Jemma, I’m sorry,” May looked at her sympathetically. “If I knew where he was, if he’d only call in, I’d take the quinjet and go get him. But you know how Bucky is about communications when he’s on a mission.”

She did know, but it didn’t stop her from drooping like a wilted snowdrop, making May’s heart go out to the younger woman as she turned away, looking once at the surveillance screen that showed the road approaches to The Playground.

They were snowed in. Not utterly; the vertical lift jets could still take off, but Bucky had left by road and planned to return the same way. Jemma didn’t fear for his safety, not very much anyway; the Winter Soldier could more than take care of himself against any opponent, including winter itself.

Jemma just wished that he had made it back before the snow got so deep. It was Christmas Eve, gifts were piled high under the tree, and she’d spent hours in the kitchen making treats of all types. Glumly, she watched Hunter joyously exclaiming over the mince pies she’d made.

“Proper mince pies! Look, Bob, I haven’t had these in years… Jemma, me girl, you’re a bloody legend!”

She managed a weak smile as he stuffed one in his mouth, and Bobbi, sensing her distress, came over, sitting down by her and putting a long arm around Jemma’s shoulders.

“Don’t write him off just yet, honey. I wouldn’t bet against him getting here.”

Jemma nodded, the lump in her throat making it impossible to speak. Bobbi squeezed her shoulder gently and made an unobtrusive gesture to Mack with her free hand.

“Here, you don’t have a drink,” and Mack was pressing a glass gently into her hand. “You made this fantastic mulled wine, can’t have you missing out on it!”

She managed a weak thank you and took a sip. Slowly, the wine warmed the icy feeling in her stomach, relaxed her tight muscles. She fell asleep on the couch in the middle of the party, sleepless nights without Bucky’s solid bulk beside her to keep her warm catching up at last. She never noticed when the whole room quieted at the entrance of a new arrival, when they all crept out quietly, leaving her alone.

Not until cool metal fingers brushed her cheek gently did Jemma stir, her eyes opening blearily until she recognised the man kneeling beside her.

“Bucky,” she croaked. “You came.”

He smiled, blue eyes bright. “Ain’t no little bit of snow gonna keep me from my girl at Christmastime.”


	52. Steve/Jemma, 3, requested by jemmaagentofshield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Snowballs_ **

“What a beautiful night,” Jemma sighed, looking up at the clear sky.

“You’re not too cold?” Steve asked solicitously, wrapping his arm a little tighter around her. She was already wearing his coat over her own, having to hold the hem up to keep it from dragging in the snow, but he’d insisted. She laughed up at him, eyes shining, her breath fogging in the chill air.

“Not at all!”

He paused to kiss her before they resumed walking. It wasn’t far back to his apartment. They’d been out for dinner, and he’d planned to take a cab home, but Jemma insisted on walking, saying she wanted some fresh air. Their feet crunched on the fresh-fallen snow as they walked, Steve carefully shortening his steps to match hers.

“Well, well, look who we have here,” a voice drawled, and Steve stiffened, whirling around, instinctively pressing Jemma behind him. Two men had just stepped out an alley, a good thirty yards distant. One of them held a pistol, the other an assault rifle; an Uzi, Steve categorised it mentally, and he held it like he knew how to use it.

“Steve,” Jemma whispered, soft under her breath, so that no one without enhanced hearing could possibly pick it up, “they’re behind us, too.”

He snatched a quick glance over his shoulder, saw another two men with pistols. Only one automatic weapon, well that was something, but they were all too far away for him to take them down quickly. Jemma would be at risk. Twisting sideways and backing up, he pressed her between himself and the wall, ignoring her indignant squeak.

 _If only I had my shield!_ But it wasn’t exactly something he’d thought he would need out on a dinner date.

“What’s going on here, fellas?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light, though he was sure they could hear the fear in it, the terror that Jemma might be harmed.

“What’s going on here, Cap, is that you’re going to put these on yourself and get in the van.” The man who’d spoken first threw something towards him. The metal landed in the snow a couple of feet distant, and his blood ran cold. He’d seen those cuffs before; had barely fought his way out of one when trapped in an elevator. Later on, in the van, only Hill’s intervention had sprung him loose.

“Or,” the man added, “your pretty little girlfriend might just get caught in the crossfire.”

“Let her go,” Steve said without even having to think about it. “Let her go, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

The man laughed, an ugly cackle. “Oh no, Cap. She’s coming with us. Hostage to your good behaviour, you see. The boss is quite eager to meet her, in fact. Seems there’s a little surprise she ain’t told you about yet.”

Steve heard Jemma’s indrawn breath behind him, wanted to ask what the hell these men were talking about, what they could know about Jemma that he didn’t. “You don’t _touch_ her,” he growled.

“Of course not. Her cargo’s far too valuable. Isn’t it, sweetheart?”

Something icy cold pressed against his fingers. Steve blinked, before realising it was a snowball. Jemma had gathered snow from the windowsill behind her.

“What are you doing?” he hissed under his breath.

“Steve, I’m pregnant. They’re talking about our baby. About taking _our baby_ ,” she hissed back, and his fingers closed around the snowball, compressing it into a hard, jagged lump of ice.

The man with the Uzi went down first, the ice hitting him right between the eyes. Jemma had another snowball in Steve’s other hand a scant second after the first had left his fingers.

Only one of the men even got off a shot, the one who’d done all the talking, and it was wild, up into the sky as he fell, the snowball that hit him in the throat a lethal missile when thrown from the hand of a supersoldier. Steve loped over, looked down into the wide, staring eyes of the man with the crushed larynx, choking on his own blood as he struggled to breathe. There was a camera on the man’s collar, Steve noticed, and he bent down to speak directly into it.

“Anyone who even thinks about coming after my soulmate again dies,” he said coldly. “So whoever you are, you better start running. Run very fast and very far, but know that there isn’t a hole on Earth deep enough for you to hide in after what you just tried to do.”


	53. Brock/Jemma, 6, requested by jemmaagentofshield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Gifts_ **

“And this one’s for Brock!” Mrs Simmons turned from the tree, beaming, a large squashy parcel in her hands.

Startled, Brock glanced at Jemma, but she shook her head, looking a little bemused. He reached out to accept the parcel, ripped the paper when he realised the entire Simmons clan were looking at him. Unfolded a sweater knitted of thick, soft, pure black lambswool.

Jemma sucked in a sharp breath, looked at her mother. “Mum? Did you make that?”

Her mother smiled, nodding. “I did. Had to guess at his size, but – should be about right.”

“I’d better try it on then,” Brock said, immediately getting up and pulling off the long-sleeved T-shirt he was wearing. Jemma saw her sisters’ eyes widen at the sight of his powerfully muscled torso, and then they turned to look at her with meaningful smirks. She smirked smugly back.

The sweater clung lovingly to Brock’s shoulders and chest, the soft blackness an exact match for his hair.

Jemma felt suddenly very warm. “Goodness me, it’s hot in here,” she babbled, shooting to her feet, grabbing at Brock’s hand. “Come on, darling, let’s go for a quick walk outside, you can see how warm your new jumper is…”

“She’s totally going to jump his bones,” she heard one of her sisters say as the door closed behind them.

“Lucky cow.”


	54. Logan/Bucky/Jemma, 7, requested by jemmaagentofshield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Shopping_ **

“I think I may have made a strategic error,” Jemma mumbled under her breath, eyeing her soulmates. They wouldn’t leave her _alone_. “I’m going into that shop,” she pointed, “and you are staying out here.”

“No,” they both said in unison, glanced at each other.

“It’s not safe,” Bucky continued.

“If it makes you happier, you can check it out first, station one of you at the front entrance and one at the back for all I care, but you are _not_ coming in there with me.”

Logan growled in his throat. She pinched him.

“Why do you need to go somewhere without us anyway?” he burst out, giving her a beseeching look. Bucky was scowling too, obviously seriously unhappy with the very idea of letting her out of his sight for even a moment, especially with the thick crowds of people milling about.

“Because, you great lummoxes, I need to buy your Christmas presents!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, finally losing her temper.

They both froze, staring down at her, and then looked at each other.

“Take her with you and check out the front. I’ll go round the back,” Bucky proposed. Logan nodded.

Jemma sighed and rolled her eyes, but let Logan take her hand. If it would make her soulmates leave her alone to buy their gifts, she’d put up with their overprotective fussing.

For now, anyway.


	55. Tony/Jemma, 18, requested by jemmaagentofshield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Holiday get togethers_ **
> 
> _Note that in this soulmates AU, Pepper and Bruce are soulmates and married to each other._

“You look fabulous,” Pepper enthused, “really.”

“Thanks to you.” Jemma smoothed her skirt, turned to check her rear reflection in the mirror. “Seriously, Pepper, I wouldn’t even had had a clue where to start looking for a dress suitable to wear to something like this.”

Pepper smiled, tweaked one thin shoulder strap slightly. “Well, I had plenty of practice, managing events for Tony.”

“I’m nervous,” Jemma confessed, twisting her fingers together until Pepper put a calming hand on her wrist. “Everyone’s going to think I’m a… a… gold-digger, or a trophy girlfriend, or both… someone’s bound to call Tony a sugar daddy and honestly I’m not confident I’ll keep my temper if they do…”

“I’m not confident _Tony_ will keep his temper if they do,” Pepper said dryly.

That made Jemma giggle. “Well, I shall concentrate my energies on keeping him under control, then.”

She focussed on that as they headed down in the elevator together, met Bruce in the foyer and got into the limo with Happy driving. Tony was meeting them there – for once, he’d decided to go along early to be there first, rather than making a late entrance in the Iron Man suit.

The Stark Industries Christmas Charity Ball was a major event, Jemma knew, but she was still a little thrown by the sheer scale of the event, the jewels and gowns, recognisable faces everywhere she looked.

Pepper seemed in her element, knowing and known to everyone, and she kept one arm firmly threaded through Jemma’s, not allowing her to fade into the background, introducing her to everyone as “ _Doctor_ Jemma Simmons,” and talking up her qualifications. Half the room was convinced that Pepper was desperately trying to recruit Jemma to SI before the opposition snapped her up, long before they reached Tony.

Tony watched the two most important women in his life cross the room towards him, his best friend Pepper, so tall and elegant, and Jemma, shorter and less classically beautiful but absolute perfection in Tony’s eyes, especially when she caught sight of him and the polite smile she was wearing blossomed into something far greater.

She let go of Pepper’s arm and came towards him, smiling that bright, wide smile that lit up his whole world. Surrounded by the great and the good of society, where he had deliberately placed himself for this, he held her eyes… and dropped slowly to one knee.

Jemma froze mid-step. Gasps of surprise sounded out around them, rippling through the room until a stunned, expectant silence fell, people craning their necks to see what was happening.

“Doctor Jemma Simmons,” Tony said loudly into the silence. “You are brilliant, beautiful, and far too good for me, but because I’m a selfish self-indulgent spoiled little shit, I’m gonna do my level best to keep you all to myself anyway. Please take pity on me and say that you’ll marry me?”

She almost choked on a laugh. Pepper, just behind her, failed to suppress her chuckles. Indeed, there was so much laughter in the room that many people didn’t hear her answer, though there could be no doubt about what it had been once everyone saw Tony leap to his feet and rush to Jemma’s side, setting a spectacular blue diamond ring on her finger before sweeping her into his arms for a passionate kiss.


	56. Steve/Bucky/Jemma, 14, requested by jemmaagentofshield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Ice skating_ **

“What do you mean, you’ve never been ice skating?” Steve stared at Jemma in disbelief.

“I’ve… never been ice skating? The UK doesn’t get cold enough for ponds and lakes to freeze over, really, and I never lived anywhere near an ice rink.” She shrugged. “I… wasn’t very interested in going out and socialising with kids my own age when I was growing up anyway. Hazards of being a child prodigy.” She looked a bit doubtfully at the skates Bucky had just picked out for her. “It’s all right, guys, really, you could go and I’ll just watch.”

Bucky made a clucking sound. Shocked, Jemma stared at him. “I am _not_ a chicken,” she said with great dignity, snatching the skates from his hand.

Bucky shared a grin with Steve as they watched Jemma lace them on. And then they reached for her, each taking a hand, and led her out onto the ice.

“But this is _easy_ ,” Jemma said after a couple of minutes, “I don’t get what all the fuss is ab _aaaargghhh_!” They’d both let go simultaneously, and without their strong hands making the minute adjustments to her balance she hadn’t even realised they’d been doing, she instantly lost her balance, her feet sliding in two different directions, arms windmilling frantically, about to crash hard onto her bottom… until Steve scooped her effortlessly up, laughing.

“Don’t you dare let go of me again!” she clung to his neck, panting, feet held well off the ice. Bucky slid into place behind her, strong arms locking around them both.

“We won’t, kitten. Promise.”


	57. Bruce(Hulk)/Jemma, 9, requested by jemmaagentofshield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Holiday tree_ **

“I don’t really celebrate Christmas much.” Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away from the display of trees in the store.

Startled, Jemma hurried after him. “Why? I mean, I know you spent a lot of time in India and you meditate, but you’re not Hindu or Buddhist, are you? And you didn’t suggest celebrating Rosh Hashanah either…”

“No, I’m not Jewish. Or any other religion. I was raised Presbyterian, I suppose, my mother was, but…” Bruce glanced back over his shoulder again. “I don’t have good memories of Christmas.”

She didn’t ask him to tell her then, not in public. It was much later, in the peace and privacy of their bed, his head pillowed on her breast, that he finally admitted that his mother died by his father’s hand on Christmas Eve, when he was only small. She heard the faint echoes of Hulk’s rage in the hoarseness of his voice, stroked her fingers through his fluffy curls and hummed a soft lullaby under her breath until he quieted.

The following afternoon, when Bruce got back from the lab, it took him a while to notice the tiny, foot-high silver Christmas tree on a table in the corner of the room. He blinked at it, bemused, and Jemma came up behind him, leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“We’ll start small,” she said, “but we’re going to replace those bad memories of Christmas with good ones. I promise.”

He smiled, looking at the tiny tree. “That’s pretty small. I could maybe string some fairy lights up around the porch as well?”

“That sounds lovely,” Jemma said happily.


	58. Bakshi/Jemma, 11, requested by jemmaagentofshield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Candy cane_ **

How he discovered her likeness for the striped candy, she couldn’t imagine. Nor where on earth he found them, in August! But one day she went to work in the lab and Fitz nodded at her desk.

“Sunil left you something.”

“I just saw him ten minutes ago,” she said blankly, “at breakfast.” He’d left their rooms before she had her shoes on, though, with a quick kiss and a murmur that he would see her later.

“Well he was here five minutes ago,” Fitz shrugged absently before turning back to his work.

There was a small white envelope on her desk, carefully squared, her name written on it in Sunil’s flowing hand. It bulged oddly. Puzzled, Jemma picked it up and ripped it open. A small, cellophane-wrapped candy cane the size of her little finger dropped out.

“Oh, yum!” she cried, delighted. “My favourite!” Unwrapping the candy, she popped it into her mouth and sucked on it happily. “Di’ ‘oo ‘ell ‘im, Fiss?” she mumbled around it.

“No, and please don’t talk with your mouth full of that, you make no sense at all.”

“Hmmm.” She sucked the candy thoughtfully, eventually shrugged and dismissed the thought. She’d ask Sunil later.

Of course, he decided to be evasive, and she had absolutely no chance of interrogating an answer out of him, master spy that he was. He just smirked at her, dark eyes flashing.

“Anything to pleasure you, my darling,” he murmured, kissed her thoroughly. “Mm. I like the taste on your lips.”

The candy didn’t appear on her desk every day; nor always in the morning. Sometimes she was certain that he’d recruited one of the others to leave it there, since she could never catch him at it. It wasn’t until December came and she walked into the common room one evening to see an eight-foot Christmas tree entirely decorated with candy canes, all of her team-mates around it waiting for her reaction, that she realised they were _all_ in on it.

“I’m going to get cavities from all this sugar,” Jemma said laughingly.

“You’ll still be beautiful even if all your teeth fall out,” Sunil put his arms around her waist, hugged her back against him, bending his head to kiss her neck, “which I know they won’t since you’re obsessive about dental hygiene. Just one of the many, many things I adore about you.”

She laughed, turned to him and caught his face in her hands. “How you found out they were my favourite I don’t know, but thank you. You spoil me.”

“No more than you deserve,” he said, and kissed her deeply, going on for so long that Hunter wolf-whistled and Skye yelled;

“Oh, get a room!”


	59. Piotr/Jemma, 16, requested by jemmaagentofshield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Hot chocolate_ **

“Oh my God it’s so cold out there!” Jemma rushed inside, huddled close to the radiator in the living-room, rubbing her gloved hands together.

Piotr laughed, following her in and closing the door, removing his coat to hang up. “This is nothing, Jemma. In Russia, this would be a mild spring day.”

“Brrrr,” was her only response, and he shook his head and went over to the stove.

“I shall make you a warming drink.”

“Tea,” she said hopefully.

“I could, but we have no brandy – or whisky. No, I shall make Russian hot chocolate.” He reached up to the high cupboard where he kept the vodka. “It will warm you right through, _ptichka moya_.”

She was still trembling inside her coat when he brought her the steaming mug, and he held her gloved hands around it to make sure she wouldn’t drop it.

Jemma took a sip and her eyes flew wide. “Is this… pretty much just vodka and melted chocolate?”

It was warming, she’d give him that. It was going to make her drunk pretty much instantly, she could tell that too. She took another sip. “Mmmm.”

Piotr grinned, seeing Jemma’s eyelids flutter, her shoulders relax. “Keep drinking,” he told her, unbuttoning her coat, removing her hat for her.

“As long as you keep undressing me,” she gave him a flirtatious look from under her lashes.

“ _This_ is why you don’t drink alcohol, _shalunishka_ ,” he discovered. “You get all…”

“Amorous,” Jemma breathed, her hand sliding under the hem of his sweater. “Indeed.”

“I am _very_ far from objecting.”

“Then you’ll have to make me Russian hot chocolate again.” Draining the mug, she set it down, licking her lips. “Right now, I want something else Russian. Bedroom. Now.”


	60. Jemma/Bucky, free choice, requested by phantomofthenightclub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I pick… 5, Fireplace**
> 
> _And I’m totally blaming the smut that’s about to happen on this picture of Bucky I saw on Tumblr earlier. Credit to[this post](http://0-ves-0.tumblr.com/post/134851841710)._
> 
>  [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Sebastian%20Stan/holy%20shit_zps7ukx9v7b.jpg.html)

“This is… nice,” Bucky said with a sigh, flopping down onto the Retreat’s worn couch. “Peaceful.”

“Well, I thought you might enjoy a few days away from everyone,” Jemma smiled down at him, before turning back to the fireplace. “And I was due some leave anyway, so I asked Coulson. Sk-Daisy, told me that this place was really peaceful and quiet.”

“Mm,” Bucky agreed, watching her as she expertly built up the fire and lit it. “You’re good at that fire-building thing.”

“Grew up with a log fire, at home,” Jemma placed the fireguard carefully in front to avoid sparks and went to the kitchen to wash her hands. Returning, she sat down beside Bucky and winced. “Wow. Daisy wasn’t wrong about the couch, though. It’s seriously uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t notice,” Bucky shrugged, and she touched his wrist gently.

“That rug by the fire looks comfy. Come sit with me.”

“Sure.” It did look comfortable, a huge thick shagpile thing. Bucky slid down beside Jemma, but she was up again after a moment.

“Light’s too bright!”

Bucky sighed; he’d been looking forward to some cuddle time with Jemma. The Playground was always so busy, so noisy; there was little privacy to be had even in Jemma’s room. He could always hear noise.

So he was delighted when Jemma turned off all the lights and came to sit back down beside him, the firelight dancing across her delicate features as she moved close. Instinctively he put an arm around her shoulders, kissed her brow lightly. She turned to smile at him, one eyebrow arching.

“Is that it?”

“What?” Bucky said obtusely.

“A kiss on the forehead? Really, Bucky, I thought I’d set the scene for romance a little better than _that_.”

He chuckled, surprised and gratified. “You did, doll. You look beautiful in the firelight. Didn’t want to rush things, is all. Thought you might appreciate a little bit of makin’ up to first.”

Jemma smiled at his consideration. “Well, if by ‘makin’ up to’ you mean foreplay…”

“You’re a cheeky little minx, aren’t you?” his arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her onto his lap, sitting facing him. “I like that.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I know.”

Bucky growled and nipped at her neck; she relaxed instantly against him, her lips parting on a soft moan as he fumbled at the buttons of her cardigan, clumsy in his haste. Soon, though, he had her stripped to the waist, lying back across his lap, his metal arm supporting her while the other hand played with her breasts, tugging and tweaking her nipples until they stood up hard and proud, red from his attentions.

“So pretty,” Bucky muttered roughly, “so soft and tender.”

Jemma could only moan with need as he pulled her back upright again, kneeling astride his lap, and took one of her nipples between his lips, his tongue flicking over it at the same rate as his thumb did the other, until she was writhing and sobbing against him, fingers tangling in his dark hair as she held him close.

Only then did he slide his fingers down her stomach, flick open the button on her waistband, ease his fingers down inside her panties.

“You’re wet,” he murmured against her breast, nipping lightly.

“Unngghhh,” was about all Jemma could get out as his agile, strong fingers worked deeper. “Please,” she whimpered as he crooked them, his palm pressing hard on her clit.

“Please what?” Bucky said teasingly, and she cried out in frustration as his hand stilled.

“Fuck me, Bucky, please, please fuck me!”

“You’ve got such a filthy mouth on you,” he snickered, but laid her down on her back on the rug, set about stripping her of her clothes before making short work of his own.

Jemma gazed up at Bucky as he knelt poised above her, the firelight gleaming off his metal arm, his face half light, half shadow. His eyes were intent on hers, gleaming with anticipation as she parted her knees, tried to wrap her legs around him.

“Easy. If I have you that way your back will be all over rug burn.” Instead he put his hands to her hips, lifted her bottom into the air, keeping his own torso upright. Head and shoulders angled down, Jemma could only clutch at the rug beneath her as he pulled her close, his cock pressing slowly deep inside her.

She cried out frantically as he seated himself to the hilt, and he smiled down at her. “What you wanted, doll?” Leaving his metal hand on her ass to hold her up, he brought the other one back around, slipped his thumb in to work at her clit. “Or how about this, hmm?”

“Buckkkyyyyyy!” It was a long, drawn-out scream as slick internal muscles contracted, and Bucky grunted, concentrating on retaining his own control, drawing Jemma’s pleasure out for longer. Thrashing beneath him, her curls tossing as her head turned from side to side, she was utterly beautiful to him, her creamy skin tinted rosy gold by the firelight, the nipples he’d so enjoyed tantalising poking up like hard red cherries.

“So goddamn beautiful,” he breathed, awestruck that she should be his, that even after all the hell he’d lived through, that somehow this amazing, brilliant, lovely woman should not only be born to be the other half of his soul but truly _accept_ him, damage and all.

Jemma cried out his name again as his thumb kept up its circling of her clit, her legs tightening on his waist, and Bucky lost his mind entirely, his hips moving in quick, jerky thrusts as he claimed what he so desperately wanted.

Jemma’s shrieks of ecstasy mingled with Bucky’s deep groans of release, echoing in the quiet cabin. At last he laid her down carefully, slipping out of her and dropping to lie on his back, pulling her into his arms, head tucked against his neck. They lay cuddled together there until the fire burned low and Jemma got up to put on another log.


	61. Steve/Jemma, 11, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Candy Canes_ **

“Huh,” Steve blinked at the red-and-white striped candy Jemma pressed into his hand. “Candy canes. These things are still around.”

“Of course they are, they’re delicious!” Jemma stripped the wrapping off hers and sucked the straight end enthusiastically into her mouth.

Watching her lips purse as she sucked on the candy, Steve suddenly completely lost his train of thought. He just stood staring at her until she took the cane out of her mouth and said;

“What?”

He blushed. He couldn’t help it, anything to do with sex still made him flush to the roots of his hair, and Jemma laughed delightedly.

“Steven Grant Rogers, you have a filthy mind!”

“Sshh,” he said hastily, scarlet-faced. “Don’t tell everyone, I’ll never live it down!”

“And Coulson would die of the shock, besides!” she giggled, sticking the candy back in her mouth and sucking it even more provocatively, making Steve groan aloud.


	62. Daddy Phil, Mamma May and Skye/Daisy, non-romantic, 16, requested by grizzly09kilo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Hot chocolate_ **

“DC!” Daisy burst into Phil’s office, her eyes wide and alarmed. Instantly alert, Phil shot to his feet, wondering what could be wrong. “May’s _cooking_!”

“Oh, that’s not good, not good at all!” he rushed after her, and they both ran down the corridor towards the kitchen. Mack was standing just outside the door, a fire extinguisher clutched in his huge hands, Hunter beside him, a look of terror on his face.

“Well at least that hasn’t been needed yet.” Phil sniffed at the air. “I don’t smell any burning…”

“Yet,” Hunter said in doom-laden tones. All four of them peered through the crack in the door, at May, standing at the stove, stirring something in a large saucepan.

“I’m going in,” Phil said bravely after a moment. He whispered it so quietly they barely heard him, though, and he didn’t move a muscle.

“I think you’re probably the only one who could, Director,” Mack whispered back after a moment.

“I know you’re out there,” May said suddenly, and all four of them jumped.

“No, we’re not,” Hunter said instinctively. The other three just looked at him.

“What? Deny everything, that’s what they taught us in the SAS!”

“This is why we don’t let the SAS train our spies,” Coulson said dryly. “Stay here, Hunter. You too, Mack. Daisy; with me.”

It was still Daisy who pushed the door open, who led the way into the kitchen. May looked up from the pan, gave her a small smile.

“Would you like some hot chocolate?”

“Ohhh,” Phil said in suddenly enlightened tones. “Oh boy, Daisy, are you in for a _treat_.”

“I may be no good at cooking food, but I make a _mean_ hot chocolate,” May poured into several mugs standing ready along the counter. “Mack and Hunter can come in too, if they’re feeling brave enough,” she raised her voice.


	63. Darcy/Hunter, 4, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Snowed in_ **

“Does it snow like this a lot in the UK?” Darcy asked curiously.

“No it fucking well doesn’t!” Hunter swore again, peering through the windscreen. “Darce, we’re not going to make it back to London, I’m sorry. I need to find somewhere to stop for the night.”

“Damn right,” she was inspecting her phone. “This snowstorm’s going to get a lot worse in the next few hours.”

They’d been into Norfolk to visit Hunter’s Great-aunt Ella, his only living relative, who’d taken one look at Darcy and pronounced her to have fine child-bearing hips. Then she’d broken out the sherry and proceeded to tell Darcy hilarious stories of Hunter as a troublemaking small boy, accompanied by photographic evidence. Darcy had been absolutely enthralled.

Hunter hadn’t cared about the embarrassment. He’d just sat there drinking in the sight of Darcy laughing her head off and the indulgent, fond smile on Aunt Ella’s face. But they were meant to be back in London that night, and eventually, reluctantly, after a delicious dinner, he’d said it was time to go.

The snow beginning to fall thickly before they were ten miles from Ella’s house was an unpleasant surprise, but he’d driven in bad conditions before and pressed on, not particularly worried. When it thickened to a white-out blizzard, though, he started to get concerned.

“There’s a pub in the next village,” Darcy announced, inspecting her phone screen again. “Only about a mile away.”

Hunter chewed on his lip, setting the car into motion slowly again. He didn’t dare move fast, knowing that he might end up in a ditch. The old Volvo moved well, though, crunching through the ever-thickening snow, powerful headlights picking out a narrow path for them between the hedgerows. Finally the headlights illuminated a swinging inn sign; a Red Lion, ubiquitous in the British countryside.

“Will they have a room we can rent?” Darcy asked.

“We’ll sleep in the bar if we have to, we can’t sleep in the car, Darce. A lot of country pubs have a room or two to rent.” He parked as close as he could manage to the door, got out and slogged through the now knee-deep snow to Darcy’s side of the car, helped her out. She clung to him against the wind and driving snow as they staggered together to the inn door. Hunter shoved at the heavy timber; it finally swung in under his weight and they almost fell inside.

The place was dark, illuminated only by a few candles flickering on the bar, some of which promptly blew out as a gust of icy air blasted in with them. Two shocked faces turned to them.

“And who is out on a night like this?” a woman exclaimed, her accent so thick Darcy could barely understand her. “Didn’t you know the blizzard was coming in?”

“Afraid not,” Hunter said apologetically. “We were in the car, didn’t want to get trapped. I don’t suppose you have a room to rent?”

The landlady smiled, more kindly, as the man with her began to relight the candles. “We do. Just the one, mind you.” Her tone was mildly censuring as she took in Darcy’s ringless hands.

“That’s fine. We’re soulmates.”

He got a raised eyebrow, but the man set down his lighter, picked up a large candle and beckoned, leading them through the bar to a small door which led to a flight of stairs.

“How old is this place?” Darcy asked, fascinated, looking at the low-hanging wooden beams, the narrow uneven steps.

“Near six hundred years, lass,” the man grunted. “The old girl’s withstood many a greater storm than this ‘un.” He pushed open a door at the top of the stairs. “Ain’t big, but there’s a bed and a bathroom. Sleep well, now.” Setting the candle down on the nightstand, he departed, closing the door behind him, leaving them alone.

In the candle’s faint, flickering light, they both looked around silently. There wasn’t much, indeed; a double bed, one nightstand, a small door which obviously led to the bathroom.

“Well,” Darcy said after a moment, turning to him with a grin, “looks like we’re stranded for the night in a very boring room indeed. Whatever shall we do to pass the time, Lance?”

He grinned back, shrugging out of his coat. “If you’re short on ideas, luv, I’m certainly not.”


	64. Skye/Logan/Wade, free choice, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_I pick… 12, Santa Claus_ **

Skye stirred, something just on the edge of her consciousness rousing her. Slowly, she became aware that there was only one warm body bracketing her, only Logan’s deep breathing to be heard. Rolling over, she looked around for Wade, wondering if he’d nightmared again – and screamed.

Logan shot upright with a roar, claws extending instantly. The Santa Claus at the end of the bed, carefully hanging stockings on the bedposts, screamed as well, leaping back and dropping the stockings.

“Wade?” Skye said, startled.

“Way to give me a heart attack, guys!” Wade, wearing a Santa hat over his Deadpool suit, pressed a hand to his chest. “Seriously, I try to do something nice and you nearly skewer me!” He eyed Logan’s claws, poised a scant inch from his throat.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Miscllaneous/deadpool_christmas_avatar_by_izzy2014-d5ozhf6_zpsp144zdox.png.html)

_credit to izzy2014 on deviantart_

“Ugh, you’d get over it,” Logan muttered, the claws retracting.

“Well thanks, thanks very much for that, just for that I’m going to take these presents back and fill your stocking up with coal.”

Logan growled, but he was definitely eyeing the filled sack with interest, Skye noticed, her fear-induced adrenaline rush fading and replaced with laughter. She collapsed onto the mattress, giggling uncontrollably.

“What?” Wade said indignantly.

She could only wave her hand at him and gurgle with laughter some more. It was several minutes before she could explain, and she still had to stop twice when fresh gales of mirth overtook her.

“Just – your interpretation of Santa – is rather…”

Wade pulled off the hat, tugged off his face mask. “What?” he asked indignantly.

“I think it’s the fact that you felt the need to have your katanas included in the costume,” Logan put in, grinning widely. “Did you even go out of the apartment?”

“Well, no, but… my suit is red!”

Logan joined Skye collapsing in laughter. Wade sighed, unable to stop himself from grinning at the sight of their mirth.

“All right, all right. Next year I’ll get a proper Santa suit!”


	65. RumSkye, 14, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You’re hardly alone there, hon. Hope you enjoy this one!_
> 
> **_Ice skating_ **

“Can you skate?”

“Of course I can skate!” But she still hesitated at the edge of the frozen lake. “You’re sure it’s safe?”

“Well Mack and I had to drill a two-foot-deep hole yesterday to hit water, so I’m pretty sure all ninety-six pounds of you isn’t going to pose too much danger,” Brock said with a sardonic smirk. She glared at him. “Of course, if you _want_ it to crack you could send a few quakes through…”

“Shut up!” Gingerly, she stepped out onto the ice. “It’s not smooth like a rink,” she grumbled, and he chuckled.

“Ah, you’ve only ever rink-skated. Well, no, it’s not quite as groomed. Nothing to hold onto, either.”

Skye was standing with her arms outspread, not trying to move. “It’s been a while,” she confessed.

Brock grinned. “Thought so.”

“Well, I grew up in New York, but then I spent quite a few years living in Dallas, and then LA – there weren’t all that many opportunities…” she squawked as he skated smoothly up behind her, caught her waist easily in his hands and lifted her off her feet, pirouetting to a showy halt with her held against him, ice crystals showering away from his skates.

“All right, show off!” she laughed. “So where did you learn to skate?”

“Ice hockey. Lived near a rink when I was a kid, I just wanted to spend all my time on the ice, used to hang around and clean players’ gear for them, do odd jobs. One guy gave me a pair of skates, another a helmet, a third an old stick.”

“Were you any good?”

He set her down on her skates carefully, taking both her hands in his and skating backwards slowly, guiding her with him. “Not bad. Stuff happened before I got to my teens, though, I kind of lost the opportunity. Got back into it when I was with the SEALs. Saved my ass a time or two, as well, in Russia.”

She grinned. “I’m imagining some Bond-style chase with explosions…”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t be very far off.” He smiled tightly. “I’ve caused a lot of explosions, in my day.”

Seeing his expression darken, his eyes hood, she realised he was reliving some old memories, and deliberately, seeing to jerk him back into the present, she said “You’re causing one right now.”

“Huh?” he blinked at her. She smiled up at him, fluttered her lashes and said in a seductive voice;

“In my panties, Mr Rumlow.”

He skidded to an abrupt halt, and she slid into him with a thump. A moment later he’d scooped her over his shoulder and was skating at top speed back to their cabin.


	66. Bucky/Jane, 20, requested by anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Secret Santa_ **
> 
> _Not part of the soulmates AU_

“So, this secret Santa thing,” Bucky asked Steve, “how does it work?”

“Oh,” Steve nodded wisely. “Yeah, we did it last year. You just get assigned a random person and you have to buy them a gift you think they’ll like, but not tell them. Who did you get?”

“Am I allowed to tell you?”

“If you want. I got Sam, who’s pretty easy. He’s a baseball fan; I’ll get him front-row seats to a Mets game.”

“Huh,” Bucky pulled the folded slip of paper from his pocket. “I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t even know who Jane Foster is.”

“Yes, you do,” Steve chuckled. “She’s _Doctor_ Foster, from Stark’s Weird Science! division. You know. She’s Thor’s buddy, works on the bifrost bridge…”

“Oh, pretty math dame!”

That made Steve laugh harder. “Buck, you’re a disgrace. Her brain’s much more impressive than her admittedly quite pretty face…”

“Which is why I said pretty _math_ lady.” Bucky smirked back at him. “I’ve noticed both. Trust me. I just didn’t know her first name. Every time I see her she’s head-deep in math equations longer than my arm.”

“So what are you going to get her?”

“That… is a really good question. I’ll have to try and figure out what she would like.”

The Winter Soldier had been far too well-trained in covert operations for Jane to notice that Bucky was watching her. She kept odd hours, he soon discovered, often staying awake for twenty-four hours or more at a stretch before crashing, rarely sleeping during the night-time. She liked to go and look at the stars when she was stuck with her equations, he discovered, often to be found on the roof in the dead of night just staring up into the sky.

It was when she passed him all unknowing on her way back inside one night, shivering and rubbing her hands together briskly, that he realised what he had to get her for Christmas.

Christmas morning arrived, and with it a rambunctious crowd of Avengers and friends, all gathered around a huge Christmas tree.

Jane watched with amusement as gifts were given and received. The secret Santa things were received with much laughter and thanks; the box of organic exotic teas she’d given Bruce caused him to jump up and hug her happily when she confessed to getting it for him, making her laugh.

“Jane!” Steve held a large squashy parcel out to her, and she blinked in some surprise, accepting it.

“What’s this? Who was my secret Santa?”

Nobody owned up, not yet. They were waiting to see if she liked her gift, she supposed, so she tore it open and stared in surprise at what the parcel held; a black leather jacket and gloves.

The leather was buttery-soft as she lifted the gloves to inspect them; perfectly sized for her tiny hands when she tried them on, just the very tips of her fingers would be exposed.

“These will be perfect for star-gazing,” she said aloud, delighted, reached for the jacket. It too fit her perfectly, snug but flexible around her body, lined with a thick fleecy fabric. When she pulled it on and zipped it up, she found it had a hood and a muffler, both fitting close to her face, they’d leave only her eyes exposed.

“Someone knows you well, Jane,” Darcy laughed next to her. “Wow,” she stroked the jacket sleeve. “This looks handmade, tailored for you.”

Startled, Jane pulled the jacket off, looked at it closely. There was no label inside. “I think you’re right! All right,” she looked around sternly, “who was it?”

Bucky sat frozen. Steve nudged him, but he still said nothing. It was Natasha who ratted him out.

“It was Bucky, Jane. He’s been working on it for ages, made it all himself.”

Jane didn’t even think about it. She charged straight across the common area and flung herself on Bucky, hugging him tightly around the neck. “Thank you, thank you SO MUCH. It’s so perfect, the most thoughtful gift, you wonderful man!”

Stunned, he lifted his hands carefully, patted her back. She was almost strangling him in her fervour. “It’s fine, you’re welcome,” he mumbled. “I enjoyed making it.”

“Bless you for ever,” she caught his face in her tiny hands and kissed him firmly on each cheek. The second kiss landed dangerously close to his mouth, and to his horror, Bucky found himself becoming aroused. Seated on his lap as she was, there was no way Jane could miss it if he didn’t get her off him soon.

He almost flung her off him and fled the room.

Later that evening, coming out of his room, he was startled to find Jane there waiting for him, wearing her new jacket and gloves.

“Would you like to come stargazing with me?” she offered, and smiled.

Utterly helpless against that smile, Bucky nodded mutely.

“Come on then.” Jane held out her hand. “I’m going to show you all my favourite constellations.”


	67. Skye/Deadpool, 4, requested by vigilantewives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Snowed in_ **

“Snow!” Wade jiggled up and down in front of the window excitedly. “Snow, snow, snow!”

It should have been annoying, but he was so adorable when he was excited that Skye put down her work and came over to look. “It’s coming down fast,” she said, “the forecast is for really heavy snow, several feet.”

“We’ll be snowed in!” Wade looked incredibly excited by the prospect.

“Well, not really, May could come and pick us up in the quinjet – or I could probably find a vibrational frequency that would…”

He clapped a hand over her mouth. “We’ll. Be. Snowed. In.”

“Ohhhh-kayyy,” Skye said slowly when he removed his hand. “Snowed in. Yes. Whatever you say, dear.”

The slightly anxious look on Wade’s face disappeared. “I love being snowed in. Hot chocolate and odd meals made up out of whatever’s in the pantry, like baked beans on graham crackers.”

Skye tried not to barf.

“And lots of sex, of course.”

“What?”

“Damn, yes, all the sex. Doubt we’ll even bother to get out of bed.”

“You… might be selling me a bit more on the idea.”


	68. Steve/May, free choice, requested by miss-moonstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_I pick… 8, Decorating_ **

“Hmm, can’t quite reach,” Steve stretched to pin the tinsel into the corner of the ceiling. “Does it need to be this high, May, or should I go find a stepladder?”

She glanced across from hanging baubles on the tree, saw that his hand was really only a couple of inches short from where it needed to be. “Don’t need it, just for that. Here, pick me up, I’ll do it.”

“Sure,” he shrugged, handed her the tinsel and caught her little waist in his hands, lifting easily.

“Hmm,” May made a thoughtful noise, and a second later her thighs hooked over his shoulders, his nose pressed against her flat stomach. He made a strangled sound.

“Just hold still,” May said teasingly, looking down to see Steve’s ears turning bright red. He made an _umff_ sound of agreement – well, she’d take it as agreement – so she tensed her thighs and stretched up to secure the tinsel.

Not coincidentally, pressing Steve’s face right against her crotch through her thin leggings.

“You’re _actually_ trying to kill me,” Steve panted, though the words came out rather muffled.

“Wrong verb, dear,” she ruffled his thick blond hair. “Now carry me over to that corner so we can do the other end.

He groaned aloud, but did as she ordered.

Of course. She had him well trained. Not even Captain America would dare to disobey an order from the Cavalry, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Last one, and PLEASE don’t send me any more prompts! Done by my deadline of New Year (still 6 hours 20 minutes to go!) so it will be back to my regular writing after this, so many things to finish! You’ll all have to wait until next year for some more Christmassy drabbles, I’m afraid._ **
> 
> **_Wishing you all a happy and prosperous 2016!_ **


End file.
